Meeting the End
by Kierastarlight
Summary: AU Castiel IS an angel. He is the angel of grief. He does not have a vessel, he appears to Dean in a 'visage'. Dean and Sam are not hunters, but they do drive around the USA in the Impala, doing the family business. Castiel wants to meet Dean.
1. Chapter 1

Beta by supernatgeekgrl at Livejournal. Thank you!

Of all the places and venues of the temporal variety under the light and grandeur of Heaven, this is the place I choose to be at.

I could be at any of the architectural triumphs mankind has left as a monument to their creative abilities; I could be in an untouched forest waiting for the first creature to inhale the freshest of air and view its unparalleled beauty. Yet I chose this place, one that has shadows. Not only of the light, but of the heart as well.

I stand waiting for what has brought me here. My wings feel heavy from the waiting; I am not used to gravity affecting my celestial being.

I am also not used to such anticipation.

I look around at my surroundings; it is crude – blackened ground for carriages to stay still in, a inane building that serves human nourishment, dirty, unwanted waste in random places on the ground, a smoking apparatus in a bush, and I know while I look at it, that the dark bloom of cancer will affect the user in five years time.

Humans come out of the building. The sight of them always brings me such sorrow. I have cradled so many of them during their darkest times. My home in Heaven shelters me from feeling infinite grief, but when down here on Earth, I am not immune to the subtleties and pains of human emotions.

The people are laughing. It is light-hearted, with no unpleasant intent, and I am grateful. I usually cannot bear laughter that is ill-directed. I can feel every ounce of misguided distaste, as if it were directed at me. Harsh laughter feels like…I do not like the word, but it feels like hatred. Like tiny pieces of hatred dissolving inside me. It is not pleasant. I wish for everyone to feel happy laughter instead.

They proceed to their carriage, and when it pulls away, another one arrives.

It is Him. If I had the likeness of breath, it would be caught in my chest. I believe what I am feeling is the equivalent of a human sigh.

Nothing I have witnessed in my heavenly abode can match what I am seeing and feeling presently.

He is a knight among men. He travels the land far and wide, bringing himself to those who need him. His carriage is crude and unbecoming of him. It is as black as the night sky I stand under, and covered in imperfections made even before the earth witnessed his birth. Yet I can feel his love for the wheeled transport, which makes me feel affection for it just the same. If it means something to him, I adore it as well.

He steps out, and I feel my entire being sigh. His face is beautiful, a cause for ecstasy to bubble up inside me, something different than my usual Heavenly state. I am a pillar of light; I either feel the sorrow of my charges or succinct waves of bliss, the calming presence of my Heavenly Father. But this is somehow more enticing, and I do not understand it, the way this human being makes me feel.

I cannot capture this feeling when I am away from him. To make up for that, I find myself dwelling on each line and curve of his face, the blush and volume of his lips, the flame of life behind his verdant eyes, the lilt of his voice when he feels well, and the way his clothes emphasize his beautiful form. But more than anything, I think about his soul.

His soul makes my heavenly being sing.

Why him, of all humans? His physical form is a description of beauty, surely, but as an angel doing my duty, I've already touched the most vulnerable part of the human soul, again and again. I have not touched this beautiful soul quite so intimately, yet I feel waves of him washing towards me whenever I am near. They mingle with my being and open parts of me I have never discovered before.

I long to touch him. I long to know him. These are not desires becoming of an Angel of the Lord like myself. Yet, I feel them, and I wonder if perhaps one day they will be fulfilled. I can no longer escape my need to find out. I take any chance I can to glimpse him. This is the first time I will allow him to see me.

This makes me feel small, and afraid. But I can wait no longer.

He is with his brother. He is almost never alone; they prefer to travel in each other's company. His brother's name is Sam.

His name is Dean.

"Hello," I say, a simple human greeting in his language. I wait in anticipation of his response. The response will be directed me. I cannot contain my eagerness. A smile on my human likeness bursts forth.

"Hey," Dean says, while he continues to walk towards the eating establishment. He nods at me. His eyes catch the light in mine, and fire spreads. He smiles. He smiles _at me_.

I was not aware my being could sing so sonorously at this brief contact. If this is how I feel from his smile, how will I feel at a touch? At a layered, meaningful glance? Right now, his eyes show curiosity, curiosity about me.

I swoon again. I have to keep myself from fluttering my wings. They are not visible to him, but he would be able to hear them.

He catches me staring, and asks, "Can I help you with something?"

His gaze is inquisitive now. He is wondering something about me. He explores my face with his eyes. It is a pleasant feeling. I wonder what his impression of me is.

"I just wanted to say hello," I say simply. I realize this golden moment with him needs to come to a close soon. I only had a moment anyway; before I was due to meet up with my charge.

Dean nods again, almost looks ready to laugh. "Hi, then. Take it easy."

Sam nods at me as well, but I am very engrossed in taking in the every nuance that is Dean. His personal way of walking, the glint in his eye just before he faces the restaurant again, and the shortness of his light brown hair.

I imagine my likeness of human lips brushing against that shortened hair. It would be soft, and what else would I feel?

Dean's about to enter the restaurant, and I want him to know my name. Before we part, I want him to know my name.

"My name is Castiel," I say.

Dean turns and looks at me again. "Pleased to meet you." He nods. He doesn't offer his name. Although I know it already, I would have liked to hear his lips say it. Say it to me.

Perhaps another time. I see my charge heading to the building next door. I must be going.

I nod too, and say, "Likewise." It is an expression I have learned from my brother. I hope I am using it in the right context.

Later, with my charge, even though I am supposed to meet her in her grief, I can't help but feel a flutter of happiness I have never felt before while doing my duty.

Dean Winchester and I have met. And my being is still singing from it. Even in his absence.

"_Dude_. Whoa, did you _see_ that dude?" Dean said as they were sitting down at a booth. "And I mean, weird as fuck too, but _damn_. That dude was…._fucking gorgeous,_" he said under his breath. Dean shook his head in disbelief, as he picked up the pre-placed menu in front of him. "And that name? _Castiel_? What the fuck kind of name is that? And just introducing himself out of nowhere?" Dean chuckled. "I hope it didn't hurt when he fell out of Heaven! Sweet Jesus!"

"Dean, if you like him, maybe you should go talk to him. Perhaps invite him in to eat with us?"

Dean looked out the window he was sitting next to. "Like him? I don't even _know_ him. And he's long gone. Maybe next time," and as he said it, he found himself wondering if there would ever be a next time. Dean and Sam traveled regularly. They didn't live here, and at the moment, had no real reason to come back.

"Hey sugar, what can I do you for?" A blonde waitress in her forties appeared beside them. She was chewing bubble gum rapidly, and obviously enjoying the view. She practically winked at Dean and Sam.

"Yeah, I'd like a double bacon cheeseburger," Dean said. "And a cup of coffee, please."

"I'll take the baked chicken breast with vegetables," Sam said.

"Your mother raised you right, Eating your vegetables makes you a strong, healthy, man." she said in approval. This time she really did wink.

"We've got the same mother," Dean said.

She smiled at Dean. "Well, she certainly did right by you as well. Mercy me! Anyhoo, I better skedaddle and have Larry get your order ready."

Dean and Sam chuckled as she left. Sam leaned over the table a little. "Dean, _I _could tell that man was handsome. I don't know, but have this feeling…"

"What?"

"I don't know, but it's like…he already _knew_ you. I can't explain it. And did you hear that sound? When he was leaving?"

"Um, not really. Why would there be a sound? Other than footsteps?"

"There was this weird whoosh of air. Almost sounded like…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, like a bunch of seagulls taking off at once, I guess."

"Okay, so there were seagulls out in the alley? So what? This is a diner, the dumpster back there is a smorgasbord to those winged devils." Dean shook his head again. "I didn't hear anything. But I tell you, if he's seen me before, I've never seen him before."

"Because," Dean said quietly. "I'd never forget a face like that, for as long as I lived."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Castiel doesn't appear in this chapter, but Dean clearly thinks about him, and it is the driving force of what unfolds in the chapter._

_Also: Warning: this chapter has Dean/OC (one time) and is rated M for a reason_

_Thanks again to __supernatgeekgrl at LJ for the beta!_

The road was waiting for the Winchester brothers as they stepped out of the diner. Dean felt some kind of anticipation in the air, and wondered if it was a lingering hope inside him that the strange man named Castiel would still be outside for some reason. He did know one thing; the air that night felt warmer, _newer_, and Dean felt very _alive_ for just a moment. As if the stars from above were embracing him, and all the lights from nearby buildings and streetlamps were participating in lighting up his soul.

He had to laugh from the unusual happiness that was bubbling up inside of him.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked as they were getting back into the Impala.

Dean shook his head with a smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking of that Castiel dude. What a weird name."

The doors slammed simultaneously and Dean turned the key, listening to the purr of his baby's engine. Despite the fact that Dean and Sam made pretty decent money, Dean still preferred to drive this 1967 Impala. It had been in the family ever since he could remember, and his father had passed it on to him when he turned eighteen. Dean couldn't imagine driving anything else.

"Hey, did you call Dad back?" Sam asked.

"Uh, no. Better do that now." After going through a mental checklist in his head, he knew this wasn't one of the states where it was illegal to drive and talk on the phone.

Dean's unusual euphoria lessened as he speed dialed his dad's number. John Winchester was just recovering from his second surgery, and Dean always felt a little guilty being on the road when Dad was so sick. He did make a point of being back in Kansas for each surgery, but John had insisted that both of his sons carry on the family business, because he sure couldn't anymore. Besides, Mom was there to take care of him. Still, Dean was so afraid that he'd miss his dad's last day on Earth, being gone all the time. With cancer, it was day by day. The doctor was saying things were starting to look promising, but Dean and Sam knew he wasn't completely better yet.

"Hey, Dad." Dean said. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like shit." Dean winced, looked over at his brother. Sam frowned too. "…Had chemo today. Forget that though. How did the deal go with McGunnerson?"

"Um, good. He wanted to make a little display area of our stuff in his store. Went really well, actually."

"Good! Listen, I've got a new list of contacts for you."

"I'm driving, Dad."

"Alright, call me later. Don't head out tomorrow till you've talked to me."

"I hear ya. Get better, Dad. Hugs and kisses to Mom."

Dean shut the phone.

Dean and Sam rode in silence for awhile. They worked together by choice; they were the best of friends. Dean and Sam knew almost everything there was to know about one another, having grown up together and then always being alone together on these long road trips. Lots of empty time needed to be filled with something, so they often compared notes with each other, but Dean wasn't in a talkative mood tonight.

Dean wanted to enjoy this subtle feeling that was increasingly building inside of him. His head felt clearer, his chest felt slightly warm, and he felt more aware of every sensation he was experiencing. Like the warm breeze blowing on his ear from the window, the smell of dirt and fresh air outside, the feel of his denim jeans stretching tightly against his legs. The warm feeling in his chest kept blossoming and Dean was remembering several good times from the past, such as his first kiss, his favorite birthday party, and the first time he had made love.

"God, I feel good," Dean mumbled, and he realized he had a very compelling desire to be intimate with someone. All of these good feelings were flooding to his lower extremities in a powerful way. "Goddamn it, I'm horny as hell now too. Is there a gay bar in the next town over?"

Sam grunted. "I don't know, Dean." he said.

"Well, can you look it up? Please?"

"Fine." Sam rustled through the glove box until he found Dean's guide to gay bars in the United States. "Hmm, where are we headed?" he asked once he had the book open.

"Russell."

Sam thumbed through pages. "Yep. There's one. Miffy's. I guess I can assume we're spending the night in Russell than, rather than Berrston?"

"Yeah, you don't mind, do you?" Dean asked.

"Of course I don't mind," Sam said good naturedly. Dean was usually the one that decided on their routes anyway, after Dad's input of course.

"You could always find some chick for yourself," Dean said, even though he knew very well how Sam felt about one-night-stands with women. He didn't like the feeling that he was taking advantage of them. Sam had said more than once that sometimes Dean had the best of both worlds. Men were more acceptable of one-night-stands, and were much more likely to be horny on the spot. And you never had to worry about getting them pregnant.

Dean pulled into Russell an hour later, and the way his groin was feeling, he was surprised he hadn't already come in his pants. His hard-on was so ridiculously visible that Dean asked Sam to make the motel arrangements, and dropped him off. He took a quick look at the map for directions to Miffy's and headed out.

Dean Winchester was a man that never had to want for sex, as long as there was a gay bar available. All had to do was walk inside the bar, and most heads were turning. Dean could always have his choice of any man in the bar, without fail. To this day, no one had ever turned Dean Winchester down. Sam had kidded once, "You ever wonder what your life would be like if you looked different?"

"I guess I'd be a lot more horny and dissatisfied," Dean had laughed.

Dean walked through the bar, looking at his selections carefully. Dean liked a certain type right now, and he was looking for the best fit. Lately, he was into men with dark hair, clean shaven, not too muscular – Dean liked being the more muscular one. He really liked men with handsome, expressive eyes. After looking around he found the guy that was the closest match to what he wanted. His hair was a lighter brown, but Dean liked him because he was scrawny and had pools of cinnamon brown eyes. Dean liked the way they scrutinized him. Dean could feel them undressing him.

"Hi, I'm Dean," he told the man.

"I hope it didn't hurt when you fell out of Heaven," the man responded. Dean tilted his head, remembering he'd had that exact same thought about Castiel earlier.

Dean suddenly felt very pained that it wasn't Castiel right before him, which surprised him even though Castiel had been very good looking. Dean wasn't accustomed to throwing himself at men unless he knew absolutely sure they were gay. And he had no clue whatsoever if Castiel was interested in men. And, he probably would never see him again, either.

The man continued to smile, and looked around. He was gloating, aware that he'd pretty much won the star prize tonight, and the other men in the room could see it. "My name's Derrick. Nice to meet you, Dean," he said with only the slightest effeminate lilt to his voice. He was still undressing Dean with his eyes, and Dean could see the man was breathing rapidly.

"Normally, I'd offer to buy you a drink," Dean said, "but…" and no more words were necessary. Derrick's eyes wandered straight down to Dean's package below, hungry and straining tightly against his jeans.

"I'd be _very_ happy to oblige you, Dean," Derrick said.

"Do you have someplace we could go?" Dean asked hopefully. "My brother's at my place, and I don't want to kick him out…"

"Oh yeah. We can head to mine." He took Dean's hand. "Follow me." He looked at a friend of his before leaving. "See you later, Jerry."

"I want _all_ the details," Jerry shouted as they were walking away. "Videotape, even, if you can."

Several of the other men in the room laughed. Several were still eyeing Dean on the way out, winking at him, looking down the entire length of him. Dean smiled and nodded at several guys as he head out the door.

Dean followed Derrick in the Impala to a neighborhood ten minutes away. He lived in an apartment building with five floors, on the fifth floor. It was a rather seedy little place, but Dean didn't mind. The guy looked and smelled nice. Dean could see the gratitude in Derrick's eyes every time he looked at him as they headed up to the apartment.

"You look like you just got your birthday present," Dean joked. He was flattered, though. Most of the men he hooked up with looked at him this way, and each time, he enjoyed it immensely. He _liked _being something special in their day.

"Honey, ain't _that_ the truth!" Derrick said with a seductive wink. They were inside his apartment now. It looked like a typical sparse bachelor pad, with only a small amount of clutter. There was a life-sized poster of a model on one wall, next to the lamp. He was a neat man. Dean liked that.

"I have a feeling this is going to make up for a lot of crappy birthdays," Derrick said breathlessly.

"Where's your bedroom?" Dean said huskily. He was getting to his breaking point. He needed to release the tension that had been steadily building up behind his zipper for well over two hours now. Plus, he desperately felt the need to feel some skin against his own. The ache was more intense than usual.

Derrick led him to the bedroom, and he gestured to Dean's rock hard erection. "May I?" He asked, and Dean smiled. Dean always had a habit of asking first before getting started. He was well aware that these men he hooked up with handed themselves to him on a silver platter, but still, Dean didn't feel right touching their intimate parts without permission.

"Yes," Dean said, "You can touch it, but I have plans for you. Don't go very far."

Derrick reached down, slid the backside of his fingers against Dean's bulge. Dean groaned. "You have plans for me? Can't wait to see what they are." Derrick unbuttoned Dean's jeans and pulled down the zipper, pulled down the cotton boxers, and tucked the elastic band gently underneath Dean's balls. "Oh God give me strength," Derrick said, before he dove in, fondling Dean's balls, stroking his cock briefly, before he reached down to lick it.

Dean groaned. He didn't want to come too early, and tonight that was something he really needed to worry about. He wanted the chance to feel the intimacy he'd been craving all night.

"Derrick, let's get on the bed. I'd like to get on top of you, if that's okay."

"Hell yeah it's okay!" Derrick said after taking his mouth off of Dean's cock. He gripped Dean's cock tight and pulled him towards the head of the bed.

Dean pulled his jeans and boxers off, and then reaching for Derrick's zipper, he asked, "May I?"

Derrick nodded. Dean undid him, and kissed his pulsating cock a few times, licked the tip. Dean could taste the pre-cum. Dean asked him to take his clothes off while Dean rummaged a condom out of his pocket. After he was properly protected, he took a look at Derrick laid out on the bed, naked.

"You look really good," Dean said. Dean was noticing how smooth Derrick's skin looked, the tone of his hips were an attractive hue, slightly tan, the man didn't have a tan line, so he probably went inside a tanning bed naked. His cock was darker, not as large as Dean's, but still very adequate, and there was a small nest of ginger-brown hair above it. It all looked delicious.

"A knight in shining armor thinks _I_ look good?" Derrick managed to say before Dean caught his lips in a kiss. They kissed for a while, Dean teasing Derrick's cock at the same time with his hands, mostly with light finger touches. Then Dean backed up, spread Derrick's legs apart. He was more than ready to get started.

Dean had a certain way of fucking, and he almost always did it the same way every time. Since he was usually with a different man each time, no one minded the monotony. Dean was always tender, as if he were truly making love to the stranger. It turned him on something fierce, for one thing.

Dean stroked the man's face, kissed him, and slid his fingers slowly to Derrick's asshole. He grabbed a thick serving of lubricant that was waiting on the bedside table with his other hand. After several minutes of making sure they were both ready, and he was certain Derrick was relaxed, Dean pushed his penis into Derrick's entrance below. Derrick groaned, and Dean kissed his neck while the man stretched from the pleasure.

Dean pushed himself in gently and slowly. He kept a gentle rhythm going and went back to kissing Derrick's mouth. Derrick moaned every time Dean hit his prostate, and Dean wrapped his hand around Derrick's cock, and pumped it, matching the rhythm of his fucking.

Dean couldn't help but remember every single time he hit some man's prostate, that it was prostate cancer that was debilitating his dad. Not a very sexy thought, but it always came back to haunt him. He'd have to swallow it and go back to the growing delicious feelings his cock was feeling. And damn, this man was a good kisser! Dean savored every sensation about it, and the guy was getting a big kick out of Dean's large lips – it was like he couldn't get enough of them. He was practically trying to eat them.

Dean started pumping harder, because he was ready to come. He kissed Derrick really hard, and then whispered, "I'm going to give you a blow job after this," before he let go of his dick. He wanted to feel his smooth chest with his hands and then completely wrap his arms around the man before he came.

Derrick held onto Dean tight as Dean came. Dean's orgasm was almost perfect – what really felt good about it, besides the human contact he'd been craving being fulfilled, was that it hit a high mark right before he came, one that he didn't always achieve. The climax was incredibly satisfying, and Dean hoped he could return the favor for Derrick.

After a quick warning that Dean never swallowed for safety reasons, he got started on Derrick's cock, licking the tip and the hole furiously, before engulfing the entire cock in his mouth. Dean liked it when he could practically swallow a whole cock, so in some ways, smaller _was_ better.

Dean worked at him for awhile, enjoying the feel of the stiff cock against his tongue, until Derrick announced he was about to come. Dean pulled back, and put his hand around the penis to make up for the lack of his mouth, pumping it until cum shot out the top and Derrick moaned extravagantly. So extravagantly, Dean had to laugh.

Bright eyed and satiated, Derrick said, "Sorry, but you are one fucking stud. I couldn't help but go a little over the top with my moans."

"I don't mind," Dean chuckled. "Let's clean ourselves up." Dean waited for Derrick to show him the bathroom, and he cleaned off his hands. Derrick cleaned up too. Dean threw his condom into the garbage. "Don't clone me," he joked.

"Oh trust me, if I knew how to clone someone, I'd be cloning you in a heartbeat. Damn, that was good! Fucking fantastic! Do you have any idea how often a regular Joe like me fantasizes that a fucking stud is going to walk in the door and pick me?"

"So I'm a dream come true?" Dean said smiling.

"Hell yes. Tell me about yourself. Do you live here?"

They got back onto the bed and Dean held him for a few minutes while they talked. "Nope, just passing through. Lucky for me there was a gay bar, because I was fucking horny as hell tonight."

"FUUUUCK," Derrick said, looking at the ceiling. "THERE IS A GOD!"

Dean laughed, kissed him. "You were good, thank you. Thank you very much."

"Such a polite gentleman, I like that." Derrick said. "I need a cigarette, and I don't even smoke!"

Dean laughed. "Nice meeting you Derrick. I'd better go."

"Let me kiss you one more time," Derrick said, and then took in one long drink of Dean's luscious lips. "And, wait a sec," he said, jumping up, looking for a scrap piece of paper. He found one and scribbled on it." If you ever pass through Russell again, CALL ME. Please."

Dean took the paper. "You know what, if I do, I will." He got up and got dressed. "Thanks again, Derrick. Have a good night."

"I'm already having one hell of a night," Derrick said. Thank YOU, Dean."

Dean walked out into the cooler night air feeling much better, his cock was limp and satisfied, he'd touched some very tantalizing skin, and had hit up on a good kisser, but yet…

Dean couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt like he still longed for something. Terribly. He just didn't know what it was.


	3. Chapter 3

I feel guilty doing so, but during some of my time off, I look at some of the record books. I am curious.

I am an angel of grief. I can't help wonder if Dean will be grieving anytime soon. His father is very sickly, and there is always a chance he will grieve for him soon.

I feel _very_ guilty doing this. No one should wish this upon a person. But I must satisfy my curiosity, and, see if Dean will have a reason to grieve soon. I do not wish it for him. But if circumstances brought him grief…

There is a chance I could hold his being in my loving embrace for a very long time.

The record book shows clear skies for Dean, and the rest of his family. Raphael, my brother, is assigned to continue healing John Winchester. I feel happy for Dean. And for Sam, their mother Mary, and John himself. They are a good family. They love each other. I am glad to know Dean's heart will not be darkened with sorrow any time soon.

Yet, this leaves me with the dilemma of figuring out an excuse to spend real time with Dean.

I do not have any real reason. Other than it would give me pleasure. And being an Angel of the Lord, that is not enough.

We are permitted to wander the heavens and the earth with time not obligated with duty, to explore other planets and galaxies, to enjoy the beauty we behold, whether it be a creation of our Lord or man-made. I have often enjoyed peacefully gazing at certain man-made monuments, delighting in the architecture and man's creativity.

But to continue to reappear and show my human likeness to Dean Winchester? This is not usually allowed unless God deems it. He is human, I am an angel.

I decide to discuss it with one of my brothers. I choose Gabriel, because not only is he less likely to be disturbed by my behavior, but he also is well-versed in the manner in which humans speak in this time period. It would do me well to learn from him, if I am to actually speak with Dean Winchester again.

Thinking Dean's name sends ripples of pleasure through me.

I am at Gabriel's side immediately. My beautiful brother, he often chooses to project his human likeness, even here in Heaven. He calls himself a jokester; he is always showing a smile on the likeness of lips and eyes.

"Castiel!" Gabriel shouts out in Dean's language. I am surprised. We usually speak in Enochian. Maybe he just came from one of the English speaking countries? There are several on Earth.

'Hello, my brother," I say in English. "Actually, I am glad we are speaking in this language, because I would like some advice on how to sound – more –"

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. "More ordinary? You still speak like the archaic being that you are. Sure, I can help you. But why the sudden interest in speaking like today's humans?" Gabriel leaned in closer. "You have an interesting assignment? Something I should know about?"

I look down, uncertain how to unravel my confessions and feelings for Dean. Gabriel notices my discomfort.

"Are you – are you _up_ to something? Gabriel says in amazement. "I really doubt you'd have an interesting assignment anyway, unless one of the world leaders is going to be stuck with a death in the family soon."

"Normally, I would see all humans as the same," I stammer out.

"Buuuut," Gabriel says, stretching out the word.

"But," I say, blinking.

"Dude. You _like_ somebody. I can't even believe this is happening." Gabriel spins around, puts his hands above the likeness of his head.

"Don't tell me you've shown yourself to this person."

"I have. How do you know this?"

"Well, if you're suddenly wanting to speak current day English, it would have to mean you've either shown yourself to a human, or planned to."

"Are you going to, inform the garrison?" I ask, afraid.

"No, no, brother. This won't be the first time an angel's had this inclination, but don't expect it to go anywhere. Believe me, I tried over a millennia ago. Really pretty gal. But it went nowhere. Be careful, Castiel. Talk to this…who is it?"

"His name is Dean Winchester," I say proudly.

"Dean?" Gabriel thinks for a moment. "I know of him. I've taught him a few things. You might not like his sense of humor sometimes though. Just remember, humans these days can be…abrasive. I'll be interested to see if you can tolerate him in certain moments, but then I could say that of all humans."

"What moments are you speaking of?" I ask, so very curious.

"Oh, he can be a – well, what humans call a 'dick' sometimes…but all in all he's a good guy. He does treat men better than he treats women, I know that much."

"Anyway, bro, if you're going to talk to Dean, you need to learn to speak a little more like a regular dude. You'll freak him out if you come off talking like some museum piece. And don't appear to him too damn much. You'll attract attention. Not only that, some of your purpose might rub off on him. That's not such a bad thing when you consider what my purpose and duty is, but when it comes to yours…we don't want Dean to become a miserable, blubbering fool for no reason."

"I would be grateful for any help," I tell Gabriel.

I spend many of my free moments with Gabriel, it is but a speck of time in the grand picture of things. Yet, for Dean, several days have gone by when I am finished. I figure it would be 'okay' to say hello to him again. I notice where he is on the continent, and wait for him to emerge from a building. Sam is off doing something else, it is a rare occasion that Dean is alone, and that is why I chose this moment and place.

Dean walks out and looks at me with great surprise. It is dark out but he must see me with the nearby streetlight.

"Hello," I say, and I have to catch myself, as I almost say, "Dean," but I remember he did not tell me his name. I do not want to 'freak him out' as Gabriel expresses it…I mean, puts it.

"Wow, I can't believe it's you," Dean says, and I am very surprised. He looks so pleased, and he's examining my face again. This is what Gabriel would call 'checking me out.'

If I were to have a heart in the likeness of my chest, it would be beating rapidly right now.

"You remember me?" I ask. "I am sig…" I am about to say significant, and then realize that might sound odd. I think of the expressions Gabriel taught me. I am a little too flustered to think of anything, though, and just stand there, hoping Dean will talk with me further.

Dean is smiling widely. "What was that, some town five hours from here? And I run into you again, _here_?" Dean laughs. "God, what a coincidence! Or, are you _following_ me?"

"Yes," I say, and then realize it might sound 'weird'. "No," I say instead. "I mean…" I am flustered again. I do not want to lie to Dean, but I do not want to tell him the truth, either.

Dean looks into my eyes. His gaze is gentle, not angry. "If you've been following me, I'm not sure I would mind." Dean looks around. "Where's your car?"

"I have no…car." I say. Gabriel stressed over and over, that people drive in cars these days, not carriages.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "How'd you get here?"

"I have…reliable transportation," I say vaguely. I am not quite ready to reveal my true nature to him yet.

"Well, aren't you a mystery man!" Dean smiles. "Castiel, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am Castiel," I agree. "You remember my name." And I am swooning, because he not only remembered my face, but he remembered my name.

"I'm Dean," he says, and puts out his hand for me. I grip it with my likeness. He shakes our hands up and down a couple times, and squeezes my hand, before letting go.

I'm still taking in the exquisite sensations rushing through my angelic being, of having made physical contact with Dean, how it felt more wonderful than the many other beauties I have witnessed. Dean stands there, contemplating me, perhaps wondering if he should say a certain thought crossing his mind. I wonder what it is.

I don't know what it is, though. I cannot hear human thoughts unless they are either grieving, or directed at me. So even if he is thinking something about me right now, I do not know what it is, because he is not trying to speak to me with his thoughts.

I feel a large twinge of regret, that I have to leave soon. Gabriel warned me of this - that if I became too attached I would feel pain from leaving him. It is not unlike the grief my charges feel for their lost loved ones. At least I know I can see Dean Winchester again. This thought alone uplifts me from my disappointment from having to leave him.

"I regret, I must be going," I say.

"Okay," Dean says. "Well, nice seeing you again, Castiel," Dean says, and he still seems to have a thought stuck in his head that he is uncertain about.

I wish I had the time to mete out his musings with some encouragement, but I do not. I nod at him briskly and head around the corner.

Dean slapped his knee and said out loud, "_Fuck_, why didn't I ask him for his phone number?" On impulse, Dean walked to the end of the block and turned at the corner Castiel had disappeared down.

"Wow, he really disappeared," Dean said to himself. Castiel was nowhere in sight.

Dean was inwardly kicking himself all the way back to the motel room. He barely knew this guy, but he knew one thing, it felt _incredible _to be looking at that face again. Dean was still closing his eyes briefly here and there, with the hopes the image would be etched inside his brain. It was.

What were the chances, Dean was thinking, that he'd even run into this guy again? It was a miracle he'd even run into him in the first place. And why did he care so much, other than the man was so gorgeous that angels must be crying tears of joy to look at him?

Dean _cared_, he realized, because he'd never felt this way about a stranger before in his entire life.

He felt captivated, flushed with excitement. He had the most intense feeling of spring fever he'd ever had. Like life was new all over again.

And if Castiel was the cause of this, why had he let him slip away?

Dean kept trying to remind himself to face reality. He didn't _know_ the guy. He could be crazy. He could be someone Dean wouldn't get along with at all. And worse of all, Dean would probably never see him again.

But Dean had to smile at that last thought, because he'd had it before, and he was wrong.

"You won't believe who I ran into," Dean said when he burst into the motel room.

Sam was hunched over his laptop on his bed. "Who?" Some realization came over his face. "Was it that one cute guy? The weird one?"

"Yes!" Dean said, clapping his hands. He fell back onto his own bed, enjoying the bounce. He stared up at the ceiling. "I can't believe I ran into him again, I mean, that was off in…I can't even remember the name of the town. I mean, what are the chances of running into a stranger like that again, somewhere else?"

"Pretty low, if you ask me," Sam says. "So, are you hooking up with him tonight?"

"No," Dean said, punching the mattress next to his thigh. "I didn't get it in time. He suddenly needed to take off. _Fuck_. I'm so horny right now. I could get off just thinking of that _face!"_

"God no, not in front of me, asshole!" Sam threw a pillow at him. "And there are no gay bars in this town, just so you know."

"Shit. Well then, I need to take a shower, _now_."

"Fuck you very much," Sam said. "You know how much I hate being your brother sometimes? You and your big mouth?"

"Oh, you'll get back at me somehow," Dean said. "Like putting some titty picture all over the laptop again. Blech. See you later." Dean bounced back up, headed into the shower.

Sam rolled his eyes and put his earbuds in, and turned up some music. Dean could get noisy if he was having a good orgasm.


	4. Chapter 4

After allowing himself a few…more like _several_ orgasms with Castiel's face as a backdrop, and this included numerous types of fantasies, like those gorgeous lips kissing Dean's cock, his sexy-as-fuck eyes watching Dean jerk off, or Dean's personal favorite, that Castiel was standing under the streetlamp at the last place they met, and then suddenly opens his trench coat, revealing his _completely naked_ body underneath it – after several indulgences, Dean realized he'd better just face reality, or he was going to make himself miserable with desire.

Dean hooked up with a guy here and there, and it helped get Dean back on track. Even though he'd missed a great opportunity, Dean felt things were going well in his life. They were selling more of Dad's newest product now, and Dad himself was starting to feel much better. Dean and Sam went out of their way to not only see Mom and Dad, but to head up to South Dakota to see their favorite uncle, Bobby.

After leaving Bobby's one day, Dean drove most of the day, until they got to one of the best greasy spoon diners they'd ever eaten at. Looking forward to the meal - a greasy bacon cheeseburger just the way he liked it, with fries and a chocolate shake in a cold glass - Dean was smiling as he slammed his car door.

He had no clue he was going to have a lot more reasons to smile.

Castiel was standing there, in front of the restaurant, looking at Dean. As if he'd been _waiting for him._

And not only, that, but looking at Dean with _so much longing_, Dean was ready to pinch himself.

"Castiel? Castiel, is that really you? Holy shit!" Dean said. He felt like they were long lost lovers, even though they still didn't really know each other at all.

Sam muttered something about he'd been waiting inside, _Thank God_, because Dean really wanted a chance to talk to Castiel. Alone.

He nearly gripped the man's arm, before he remembered his manners. "Cas, Castiel, you…how did you get here? I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen," Castiel said, and it was such an odd thing to say, Dean twisted his eyeballs up in his head, thinking about it. "What? Never mind. Cas, I've got to have your phone number. Please? I'd really…really like to get to know you better." _And I'd really like to fuck your brains out, tonight._

Dean was aware though, that a one-night-stand would not be satisfactory, if he got that lucky. At this point, he couldn't even fathom having to step away from that beautiful face. _Goddamn it, I really have it_ _BAD_.

Dean was embarrassed. He'd never begged for a man's phone number before, _ever. _Usually, it was Dean on the receiving end of that, and Dean was always adamant _not_ to give it out.

_Please, please, don't let this be the time that karma decides to be a bitch._

Dean realized people inside the restaurant were staring at them. "Hey, come here, please", Dean asked. He nodded towards the side of the building, where there were no windows. Castiel nodded in agreement and followed.

Once around the corner, Castiel said, "Dean, I do not have a phone number…"

"You don't?" Dean was instantly dismayed. He shook his head. "Everyone has a phone number. If you don't want to give me yours, you can tell me. I can deal." _No, I can't._

"I really don't have one, Dean, or I would give it to you."

Dean looked around. No one was in gawking distance. "Look, Castiel, you are one _weird_ dude. I mean you've showed up to me in several random places, you don't own a car or a phone, yet we keep running into each other. How? How is this even possible?"

Castiel looked frightened. Like deer in the headlights frightened.

"Dude, I'm not trying to scare you. Look, I should ask you, are you, gay?"

Castiel looked puzzled. "Gay?" He looked up at his incredible eyebrows, contemplating the question.

Dean started wondering if English wasn't his first language, even though he had no accent. "Do you like men, Castiel?"

"I like you, Dean," Castiel said. "So, yes."

Dean leaned in closer. "I want to kiss you. May I?" Dean was thinking for the first time in his life though, that he shouldn't have asked. _Because. He. Could. Say. No_. But the last thing he wants to do is frighten Castiel away.

Dean knows he's crazy at this point. He's talking to some guy who talks like he was born yesterday, has no clue who he really is, but yet, he's never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life.

/

Dean Winchester wants to kiss me.

I was not anticipating this at all. The most I had hoped for was perhaps another handshake. Another hello, another accepting glance from his warm and tender eyes.

We have met three times, and his lips ache for mine. The pleasure I feel with the anticipation is immeasurable. My curiosity peaks me. My human likeness shudders with desire. My ability to swoon has increased a thousand fold.

Dean takes one look at my eyes and knows I wish to fulfill him. I get that kiss. He waits no longer.

Our lips meet, and this intimacy is the sweetest thing I have ever known. I could cry tears of joy, if I had real eyes. Dean presses up against my likeness and continues to kiss me, softly. I feel the soft pads of his lips. I feel his heartbeat in his chest. I taste his breath. I feel the tickle of the whiskers breaking out of his skin. I wish so much I truly had a human body, so I could feel even more. But even so, with my likeness, I feel so much I am overwhelmed.

Have not human poets written about this moment so many countless times? With that wish unfulfilled with each passing day?

Dean stops briefly and I long to feel his warm lips back on mine. But I realize too it is almost time for me to go. I decide I will not wait so long to see Dean Winchester again.

I am not sure either of us could stand it.

"Cas," Dean says, his head still very close to the likeness of mine. "How can I see you again? I need to see you again. Will you come in and eat with us?"

"I can't," I tell him. It pains me so to disappoint him. "I must be going. But we will see each other again. Please trust me."

Dean steps away. "I guess I don't have a choice! I have no idea what planet you're from, but heaven help me, I need to see you again, Castiel. And I want to know things. Like how we keep running into each other. Can you at least give me that?"

I think about it. I suppose the next time we meet, I could reveal more about my true self. "I will do that Dean. Next time. I must go now, duty calls."

"Duty? What is your job, anyway?"

"I take care of people that grieve," I tell him, and then walk away.

Dean sees the ghost of my likeness walking away for several minutes, because he keeps watching it. I do not pull it from the earth until I am certain he is no longer looking.

Actually, I flew to my recent charge immediately.

/

"Castiel, Castiel, Castiel, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?" my brother asks me later in heaven. "You realize this cannot go very far, don't you? And you've already kissed him? He's human. He's going to want more than that."

"I have already promised him I will answer some of his questions."

"Oh, that's going to go over well. _Trust me_. People _freak _if you tell them you are an angel. Look at you like you're crazy. Start wondering if _they_ are crazy. Good luck with that, man."

"And another thing, if Dean Winchester asks if you are gay, you say _YES_."

"What does it mean? Liking men? As opposed to women?"

"It means you are a dude liking a dude. Doesn't apply if you are a woman liking a dude. Then you're straight."

"Straight, is heterosexual then? And gay, is homosexual?"

"Yes, you're learning, little bro!" He slaps the likeness of my shoulder.

"I am homosexual?" I ask.

"Castiel, you know you're not sexual _anything_. But Dean sees your visage, and it's a male visage. So if he asks if you are gay, and you like him, say _yes_, get it?"

"Yes."

"Enjoy him while it lasts," Gabriel says, shaking his head."I feel bad for you, bro. Humans. Don't get too involved, other than doing your duty. I learned that a long time ago."

There is something unspoken between myself and my brother. He knows I cannot learn the truth until I experience it. I know I cannot stop myself until I meet the very end of what can be between myself and Dean Winchester.


	5. Chapter 5

I make some foolish mistakes with my eagerness.

I told myself I would not make myself or Dean wait so long for our next meeting. I go to him immediately after the shift with my charge.

This is a mistake on many counts.

I do not give myself time to recharge, for one thing. It is the main reason I spend much of my off duty time in heaven, conversing with Gabriel. It is completely necessary for an angel to recoup after time spent on Earth, especially for one as myself, being the Angel of Grief.

I appear to him, the next day, as he's standing against the brick wall of his dwelling, watching the sunset bleed dark and vibrant colors into the sky. The dying sunlight casts a golden glow against his tanned face, and he looks as holy and beautiful as any one of my brothers.

Dean casts his glance at me, and the sight of me makes him sigh more than the sunset. It is a wave of sighs, his meeting my own, and I feel buoyant and extremely gleeful.

"Castiel," he says, and his eyes alight with happiness. He looks as if he is about to touch me, but he reserves. I ache for that potential touch as if I have been waiting forever for it.

His glance melds with mine. It is that layered look I had hoped for many earth weeks ago. I never fathomed it would be this exquisite.

"Cas," he says softly, "Cas…" but he does not finish. Perhaps he is afraid to share his thoughts with me? I wish he knew he is forever safe from a harsh judgment from me.

"It's so good to see you," he says. "But it's beyond weird that you can pop in on me like this. Please tell me you are going to clue me into how this is all happening. I'm starting to wonder if you are an alien from outer space. If so, you need to spread some of your DNA on this planet. It would beautify the world.

"You find me…beautiful?" I ask.

Dean reaches out and touches the likeness of my shoulder. "There is no parallel to your beauty, dude. None. I'm standing here looking at you and wondering if I've died and gone to heaven." He takes his hand back off my likeness and turns his head slightly, his own beautiful face blushing a red that matches the tones in the sunset. This small vulnerability of his makes my being flutter, and my wings flutter before I can stop it.

Dean looks around. "What was that?" but he gives up on his curious quest soon and looks to me again.

"Please tell me you can stay awhile," Dean says. "Look at me. I barely know you, and here I am begging you to hang out with me."

"I can stay a half hour, Dean." I tell him.

"A half an hour?" Dean says. He tilts his head. "What are you going to do, turn into a pumpkin? I don't know if I should be grateful or devastated! It's longer than I've ever had to talk with you, but….but I'd love to spend the entire evening getting to know you better! Hell, I'd take you on a formal date, wine and dine you, whatever it takes to win you over! I shouldn't be assuming we'd even get along, I'm not, but you've really gotten under my skin, and I'd like the chance to see if something real could happen between us."

I am picturing exactly why Gabriel has said fondness for a human can become difficult. I want so much to oblige Dean, but I cannot. If I can give him at least something, this evening will not be a loss. I am already heady with knowing I have saved a half hour of time for him. I feel so much bliss being with him for a few minutes. What will I feel from a half hour?

"We could go to an eating establishment," I offer. "Something close, so we don't lose much time in the transportation process."

Dean looks at me strangely. I feel self conscious; my lessons with Gabriel are not influencing my speech. I try again.

"We could go out to eat, as long as it's close. I just don't have much time, and I wish I did."

"Wow, it's like you just switched gears. You were talking like an alien a moment ago, and now you sound human. No offense. I'm really scared now that you _are_ an alien. Are you?"

"No, I am not."

"Well, let's walk over to this really fancy place down the block. They serve tacos with sauce packets. Wish I could treat you to something better, but you say you have no time."

Dean offers his hand towards me. I am unsure what to do. "Want to hold hands? I'd like to hold your hand. I don't care who sees us either. Homophobes can just stick it where the sun doesn't shine if they don't like it."

"I would love to hold your hand," I say, and place the likeness of my hand in his. I love the warmth of his hand, the gesture too of wanting to keep my hand in his, it is sweet and very fulfilling.

We walk this way, hand in hand, half a block to this taco establishment he has already mentioned to me.

Dean smiles at me and says, "I haven't felt this giddy since I was a teenager on my first real date. What kind of mojo are you pulling on me?" His smile is dazzling there; his eyes glint with glee and meet the inside of me, layer on layer of connection, through our eyes. I decide not to tell him I'm not familiar with the word mojo.

Instead, I say, "Are you implying I have worked some magic on you? Because the way I feel in your presence, is perhaps magic indeed. It is beyond the ordinary."

Dean laughs, and of course it is music to my would-be ears and to my whole being.

"I don't want to be pinched right now, Sam, because I never want to wake up from this beautiful dream!"

"You are not dreaming, Dean," I say plainly, confused at what he is saying.

"Where are you from, Cas? Because you talk…different. Besides, you promised me I'd get to find out more about you."

"Can I tell you at the conclusion of our 'date'?"

"Yeah, sure. But don't forget!"

"I will…I won't."

We arrive at the taco establishment. He opens the door for me, like a gentleman. He guides me to a divider in the room, where some people stand on the other side. Dean looks up at words on the wall up high above the heads of the people.

"What would you like to order?" Dean asked.

"I will not eat," I say. "To save time."

"Well, why don't we get Pepsi's or something? Less chewing, more talking."

"Okay," I nod. "I will try a Pepsi."

"Haven't you had a Pepsi before?" Dean asks me.

"No."

"My _word_. Okay. Two Pepsi's please. Medium is fine."

Dean gives the people currency and we are given cups for which to fill with the drink called Pepsi. Dean goes to a machine that pours Pepsi at the touch of a button. He fills both of our cups and puts a top on them, and punches long cylinders into them.

He guides me to a seat. I check my internal clock; we have fifteen earth minutes left. I am saddened that our time is almost over, at the same time very happy to be sitting across from him. It is a very strange sensation. As if there are two parts of me. I want to identify with the happy one, so I shift my attention there.

"Well, this date just got started and it's almost over. Where do you have to go after this, if you don't mind me asking?"

I think of telling him I have duty to attend to, but realize I should be putting my lessons into practice. "I have to get to my job," I say.

"What, do you work twenty-four fucking seven?" Dean says, with a bit of laughter.

Dean sees the confusion in my eyes. "Are you a doctor or something? A psychiatrist? You said you work with grieving people."

"I work with grieving people," I nod. "I am not a doctor."

"What's your job title?" he asks me.

"I am an Angel of Grief," I tell him. "This is what I was going to tell you, Dean, how I can show up where you are, know where you are. Why I have so little time on the earth. I am an Angel of the Lord. I hope this does not frighten you, because I would never want to frighten you."

Dean's smile falters. His eyes lose their light and show concern. Indeed, he looks pained. I feel terrible pain myself, knowing I am the one that caused this. I wondered if the truth would upset him, but I had promised him the truth and I had to oblige him.

"Shit," Dean says softly. "You're crazy. I should have known this is too good to be true. _Goddamn it_."

I shake my head, trying to encourage him. "God doesn't damn this. And I am not crazy. I promise you."

Dean looks down, he is no longer meeting my eyes in pleasant glances. He also looks around the room, avoids my gaze.

He finally looks back at me. His eyes are unhappy, indeed, they show anger.

"You're schizo or something. Great. Look, you're smoking hot, but I can't date crazy. Sorry." Dean stands up. "Look, you might want to change your approach or something, maybe get some help? Call me on your non-existent phone when you get some meds and at least act normal. I might be able to handle you then. But that's a big _Maybe_." His eyes look up and around. "Bye, Castiel. Enjoy your Pepsi." He looks at me wistfully before turning away.

I watch Dean walk away, stricken with the very grief my own charges feel. I pledge to myself I will give him reason not to doubt me. But it will have to be later. I must make careful plans.

I fly to my charge. I am already feeling drained from not returning to heaven between shifts. Having upset Dean, I am spent and broken myself, and here I am, needing to comfort this soul whose grief is raw and unbearable. I am supposed to be absorbing some of her pain, but my own makes my being a full cup.

Some of my grievers are in the stage where they are solid rocks of silent, unmoving grief. They do not take quite so much energy, even though their need for solace is just as great as any other griever. However, my current charge is in the very first stages of grief. Azrael completed his visit with her husband only this evening. It was a sudden death, and she is in complete shock and hysterical.

I try to do my duty. In the simplest of terms, I infuse part of my angelic energy into my charge. I try to patch holes in their souls with my peace. I usually can make some of the shadows become light. But now, after a half hour I need to break away, and recharge in heaven.

I return home and Zachariah, leader of our garrison, is waiting for me.

"Castiel," Zachariah says with very scolding tone, "You not only failed to recharge in heaven between duties, you also revealed your visage to a human, for thirty earth minutes, with no direction to do so?"

I am no longer in my visage. I am a pillar of light, but I almost feel my visage head looking down in shame.

"Castiel, there is no excuse for failing in your duty. I must seek revelation from our Lord. Wait here."

I hear Zachariah's wings unfold and take flight, and I enter a deep state of concentration to recharge myself as quickly as it is possible.

Moments later, Zachariah returns. His being is in a heightened state after his meeting with our Lord.

My being humbly bows to his. I await my judgment. I tell myself, at least Dean will bear no more suffering from this decision, he has already decided he no longer wants my company.

Zachariah's being is bright, in its most glorious state, and yet I can feel him shake his visage's head. There is the likeness of a sigh.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but carry on."

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously.

"Don't fail in your duty again. Do not fail to recharge when you need it. But I will say this, what you are doing with this human is foolish. You will realize you cannot give him the time for a relationship, not in the sense humans understand it. I do not see what you expect to achieve from this little fascination of yours, but just like Gabriel told you, it can't amount to anything. However, Our Lord does not forbid it, so be prepared for whatever hard lessons it may teach you. And your precious human."

"Why doesn't Our Lord forbid it?" I ask with great curiosity.

"Beats me, Castiel," Zachariah says. "You think Our Lord wanted to waste time chewing the fat about your current love interest? Our Father is a very busy God. Oh, and you'd better heed the warning I gave you about your duty. If you fail in it again, you will not be able to show your visage to a human for a very long time."

"I understand. I will not fail."

Talking to Dean again will take even more careful planning than I realized.

_God has not forbidden it_. I was expecting that both Dean and God would have traced my path for me at this moment, I was already preparing my being for a life without Dean, and it was a very hollow feeling indeed. Yet the fact that speaking with Dean is not forbidden, feels like an open door to me. There is potential and hope in my heart, and I wish to delve in and find what possibilities await me.

I know I cannot keep myself away from Dean at all, unless it is forbidden, or Dean absolutely does not want it.


	6. Chapter 6

I spend many Earth days planning.

I also check on Dean, invisibly. I am the whisper of dreams forgotten; only spending the briefest of moments near him. I can see how my hasty return to him was a mistake on many folds. He is grieving. Not because he has lost someone, although I know he does miss me. Or at least miss the hope of what I could have been.

It is because he absorbed some of my pain, just as Gabriel said he would.

Dean slammed the door of the motel room and threw up his arms, made a fist, and punched his forehead with it.

"Shit, shit SHIT!" he yelled, and then threw himself on his bed. He pounded the mattress with his fist.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, his eyebrows clenching with concern.

"He's crazy," Dean whispered.

"Who is?"

"Castiel! The gorgeous weirdo we keep running into? He showed up again, I thought I was going get to take him out on a cheap and strangely _very_ quick date. Then he pulls this fucking _story_, god I don't even want to tell you what he said because it was so fucking delusional. God, he's a schizophrenic or something. I should have _known_ he was too damn good to be true!"

Dean curled up into the fetal position, and put his head in his hands. "Why? Why?"

"Well, if you like him so much, maybe you could ignore the delusional part? You never know, he could be a really _sweet _delusional person. And you are already attracted to him. Maybe it's worth a shot? Maybe if he gets on meds, he could be halfway decent…"

"No!" Dean shouted. "I don't want to hook up with someone who needs to be fixed, no matter how freaking sexy he is. The dude thinks he's an _angel. _You saw how irate I got with that guy who thought he was Jesus? I can't stand delusional, religious nuts! I just can't. But I feel like fucking bawling here. What's wrong with me?"

"You really liked him," Sam says softly, compassionately.

"I guess. I just need to remember he was just a pretty face. I didn't know jack shit about him and I let myself feel something more than infatuation with his hotness. I'll get over this eventually. I just feel like fucking crap right now. Like it hurts to goddamn breathe."

Dean let out two very huge breaths. He noticed his shirt was drenched in sweat. "Like he broke my heart. And we didn't even get anything started," he said, his voice heavy with regret.

Sam stood up. "I think I better get some beer."

The sinking feeling in Dean's chest continued to hold a pity-party for days. He tried to bounce the unwelcome bash out with some willful thinking, but the ache continued. He felt lost, lonely, and fragile, and stayed curled up in the fetal position, as if unraveling himself would break him into two. They weren't traveling since Dean felt like complete shit.

Sam tried to help. He'd buy beer at first, and even caved in and grabbed something stronger when Dean begged for it. Until the third day. Sam was restless, tired of seeing Dean looking miserable and tired of doing nothing other than surfing the web and discussing business priorities with Dad.

Sam had tried the compassionate, empathetic stance, and the chin up stance, and now he was just exasperated. He let whatever he was thinking fly out of his mouth.

"Come on, Dean. You don't really know this guy. Get over him already! We have things to do, people to see!"

"Gee, Sam, it never really occurred to me that I don't know Castiel. Thanks for the tip, I feel much better now."

"Look, Dean, I'm just saying…"

"I know what you are saying. And _I know_, fuck it all. None of this makes sense. I want to get up and forget this. Instead, I just keep feeling like somebody died, and I have this horrible weight on my chest."

"You know, I wonder how he kept showing up," Sam said. "I mean, what if he really _was_ an angel?"

"What are you going to believe in next, Santa Claus?" Dean shouted.

"Well, it is a mystery how he kept finding you in the most random places."

"He's a stalker. He lied about not having a car. You know the simplest answer is usually the right one."

"Dean, if he was a stalker, he would have showed up again. But he hasn't."

"Are you saying you _believe_ him?"

"I'm just saying, it's strange! This whole thing is strange, and I'm worried about you."

I have to wait nearly three earth weeks to see Dean again. I have to pick the perfect time. I recharge in heaven on a regular schedule, and saved up several free spaces of time to link together and make a time slot efficient enough to reveal myself to Dean.

Reveal myself to Dean _and_ Sam. I think about this carefully. It is the only way to keep Dean from thinking he is delusional.

I knock on his motel's room door. Sam answers. "Castiel?" he says with very apparent surprise in his voice. He looks over to Dean.

I look to Dean as well. I am grateful to see he is no longer curled up in an unresponsive state. He still looks morose though, a beer in his hand and a dull sheen in his eyes.

I do not wait to be invited in, in case they are not feeling welcoming. I walk inside the room. Dean looks shocked, jumps up off the bed.

"How do you keep finding me?" Dean asks. He sounds half angry, half mesmerized. "I thought I told you I don't do crazy."

I shut the door behind me. I do not want anyone else to see what I will show Dean and Sam.

"I am not crazy, Dean. And I am sorry for your pain and grief, it is my fault. I have reserved extra energy to heal you." I reach over and touch his chest, where not only his physical heart lay but his spiritual one as well.

"Hey!' Dean shouts, but does not push my hand away. He stares down at his chest. "How did you do that? I feel better now!"

"I do not have much time, but I want to show you I am telling the truth. I am an Angel of the Lord. I am showing Sam as well, so that you know that you yourself are not 'crazy'."

I know Dean is feeling his heart clench again, he is afraid I am living my personal delusion. So I do not want to waste any more time.

I spread my wings. They see flashes of light; hear loud noises that resemble thunder. My wings span beyond the scope of this room, but they see part of them. They are white, translucent, and iridescent, when humans witness them.

After I am certain they have witnessed them, from the look in their eyes, I make them no longer visible. Showing them to humans takes a lot of energy. "And if that was not convincing enough, look directly at me. I should say, keep looking directly at me."

I disappear and re-appear near their bathroom door. Both of them rub their eyes at the sight of my disappearance. They look around and are very shocked to find me still in the room, in another location.

"How did you DO that?" Dean shouts. "How did you _fucking_ do that? Sam, did you see that?"

Sam swallows, and blinks. "Yeah, I did."

"Dean," I say, with some impatience. I've tried so hard to show him what I truly am. "I have told you, I am an angel. You still do not believe me?"

Dean's eyes are agitated, looking all over room, still locking onto me at times. He is afraid.

"I don't know what to think! You could have hypnotized us, drugged us, I don't know!"

"I have to go. Take time to think on what I have shown you. I will be back for a visit." I leave the room instantly.

They hear the thunderous flapping of my wings and no longer see my visage in an instant.

Dean let the experience sink in.

He wanted to believe he was crazy. Which wasn't much of an option since Sam kept mentioning how fucking wild it had been. He looked like a man changed. Sam had a glint in his eye born in a new hope that perhaps there were more to life than the ordinary grind of the day. Basically, Sam was mesmerized by the idea that he may have very well witnessed an angel.

Dean, on the other hand, felt more skeptical than filled with wonder. He had Sam contact a few local hypnotists to see just how easy it would be to hypnotize a random stranger. That angle didn't go far, the hypnotists confirmed it took more time and set up to put any kind of suggestion into someone's head.

The Winchester's had a small private health insurance plan, so Dean got himself checked as well – and made Sam go. Neither of them showed signs of invasive drugs, or any drugs for that matter.

Dean racked his brain for what else it could have been. Holograms? He didn't think there were too many other options.

Weeks went by. Castiel's absence confirmed to Dean that he was just a nut job out of special effects. In Dean's logic, a real angel would be able to appear whenever he wanted.

He was still waiting for the climax, perhaps an announcement that he was actually starring on some reality show. That could explain how Castiel was able to get around so well, perhaps he's one of the actors or producers and has the sources and funds to pull it all off.

The thought makes him edgy, waiting for Castiel or someone to jump out and say 'boo', but it also comforted him, because it beat the thought that both he and Sam were crazy.

That still didn't change the fact that he missed Castiel. Not with the unpleasant heartache he'd been stuck with for days, but just a general missing what he liked about him.

He seemed so innocent, for one thing. So out of place, and except for the big joke, he seemed really nice. This all was of course, on top of how attractive he was. Then reminded himself the innocence was probably an act, and then started to wonder what the 'actor' himself was like. Until he told himself to stop. Something inside him told him that Castiel's innocence was real. As if he could feel it plain as day.

And then one day, Castiel just appears in the motel room. No warning, and it shocked both Dean and Sam so badly they were both fumbling with their phones to dial 911.

"Don't." Castiel said, and both phones flew out of their hands before they dialed the last '1'. Castiel caught them and put them on a dresser.

Mouth hanging open, Dean managed to put his bottom lip closer to the top so he could start talking. "Castiel. I'm starting to think you're really an angel. 'Cause I can't imagine how you did that just now."

Castiel sat down on the foot of Dean's bed. "How are you doing, Dean? As usual, I do not have much time. But I have set aside some time so that we could see each other. I have missed you."

"I missed you too," Dean said, and then he was surprised that he said it.

Castiel smiled at that, and Dean was shaking his head, he was so consumed with wondering what was going on here.

'So, what is this? I mean, if you're an angel…" Dean rolled his eyes at the thought, " without much free time, what the hell is going on between us?"

"I enjoy spending time with you, Dean. I wish I could do it more often. But I can't. My brothers warned me about this. Angels do not have enough time to form relationships with humans. I am very sorry, by the way, about the grief you felt for awhile. Part of my essence rubbed off on you. I am taking precautions to keep it from happening again."

"You're beautiful," Dean said suddenly. "You _look_ angelic. If you're really an angel that kills me, because I could never have you."

"You want to 'have' me? In what way?"

Sam laughed, a short snort, and Castiel frowned. He looked at Sam with such a forlorn look, Sam felt the need to apologize. "Sorry, but I guess if you were an angel, you wouldn't understand why that is funny."

Castiel put his focus back on Dean. "You have my devotion. I am not sure that is what you want to 'have', but you have it. I am still curious as to your answer."

"As a boyfriend, dude." And Dean blushed at the thought – _and as a lover_ – but didn't say it out loud.

"Oh. That should be apparent that you meant that. I would like to be your boyfriend; may I at least try it? With the time I do have?"

Dean's eyebrows went up. "I'm confused. I thought you said that you _didn't have time_ for a relationship with a human. God, do you know how _nuts_ this sounds? Fucking nuts!" Dean shook his head at the absurdity of it all, but still couldn't stop looking at Castiel. Couldn't give up the hope that there would be more time to look at him.

Castiel tilted his head. "I'm confused too. But even though our time is limited, I wish to get to know you better. To let you get to know me. I…I desire that. I hope you will be willing to let me come and see you again. I do not know what can result, but I need to see you - like a human needs to breathe."

Sam motioned to the door and then quietly left, respectful of the fact that this was a private moment between Dean and Castiel.

Dean was having trouble processing that heavy statement. He could feel the sincerity and the innocence of it too. Somehow, Dean _knew_ Castiel had never said that to a human being before. He just knew. They were barely getting started and already he was throwing out such a heartfelt, romantic comment. He blushed. "You…you do?" Dean stammered out, his head and heart spinning.

"I do," Castiel said, his voice and sincerity the equivalent of porn movie, for how much it was turning Dean on. Dean could picture that voice groaning in ecstasy, if he were human, that is.

"Alright." Dean swallowed "I don't know where this is heading, but I'd like to see you again. Surprise me. Although I'll tell you right now, if I get too frustrated – like I can't see you enough, be with you enough, I will call it off."

"Agreed." Castiel said simply. And then he stepped closer to Dean, and asked, "Would you like to kiss me, before I leave?"

"I'd love to kiss you," Dean said, but when Castiel started leaning in, he put up his hand. "But. How much time do we have left?"

"About five minutes of your time."

"Then no. Save that for next time. Maybe it will make you come back to me faster. I want to know something about you. Talk to me."

Castiel was already sitting next to Dean, and Dean moved closer so they were at least touching. He looked at Dean with such acceptance and love, Dean felt embarrassed. "What do you want to know about me?" Castiel asked.

"If you are really an angel, why do you look human? Do angels actually look human, or is this for my benefit?"

"We don't actually look human. But each one of us has a visage, a likeness that our Lord chose for us. If we are to appear to a human, it is in that visage."

"How real is it?" Dean asked. He touched Castiel's hand. It felt real. It was warm to the touch, and Castiel reacted to the touch as a human would. His eyes softened and there was an audible sigh. He had obviously enjoyed it. Dean reached for the wrist. "It has a pulse!" he said, surprised.

"Check it again," Castiel said. Dean reached over and conducted another test. "Weird, you feel warm, but there's no pulse. This is freaky."

"I turned it off so you could see, it is an illusion. I will look and feel very human to a certain extent."

"To what extent?"

Castiel looked down. He was hesitating to speak, which made Dean very curious. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about the limits. Can we hold hands? That felt very good. Even though my experience as a human is limited, I can feel certain things the way a human would."

Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel's. "This feels good to me too, Cas. I really wish you didn't have to leave. Where do you have to go?"

"To my charge. A grieving widow. I need to be there for several hours."

"Doing what, exactly? And what do you do after that?"

"It would take too much time to explain the first question right now. As for the second question, I recharge in Heaven afterwards."

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand. "I need to go, Dean. I will think of you every moment I am away. I will come back as soon as I can. I am grateful you are willing to spend time with me."

"I'm grateful and blown away that you would want to spend time with me, Cas," Dean said.

"I have a gift for you," Castiel said and pulled a white cassette tape out of his trench coat pocket. "It is a tape of music I had made for you."

"I hope you know I only like rock," Dean said, "but don't get me wrong. I'm touched. And I'll try it out."

"I am quite certain you will like it," Castiel said. "Goodbye, Dean." He left in a blink of an eye, leaving Dean holding his tape and wondering if the last twenty minutes was nothing but a dream.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean cracked his knuckles in the Impala before starting the engine. "Well, guess I'll give this tape a shot. I'm not expecting much. Harps, maybe." Dean was excited to see what Castiel thought he would like, although he was a little afraid he'd have to let him down gently that the music wasn't quite Dean's tastes. However, Castiel had seemed so confident that his curiosity was killing him.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Dean asked after stuffing the tape into the cassette deck.

"You have a date with Maxine Kline for dinner. Wining and dining a potential client."

"And what do you get to do?" Dean put the car into drive and listened, both for the music to start and for Sam's answer.

"Marketing. Jazz up Dad's website a bit, put some flyers around town."

Dean wanted to say that Sam should be the one wining and dining the female clients. But they both knew that Dean was able to sweet talk the women with greater ease than Sam. Sam's conscience would get the best of him if the woman looked like she was losing interest, while Dean would just tug harder, determined to win that sale.

But that didn't stop Dean from wishing Sam could do it as well as Dean. Sometimes he found the experience very tiresome, a big act. His dad used to be the one throwing the sales pitch. Dean mysteriously inherited John's ability to strike gold with the women clients, even though Dean was so much more interested in men.

The music had started somewhat softly but was now pounding rhythmic beats out of Dean's speakers. It was a rock song Dean didn't recognize. It was sounded awesome, though. Then one of his favorite singers started bellowing at the top of his lungs.

"Hey! I thought I had heard all his stuff!" Dean said.

"You certainly own all his tapes," Sam agreed. "I've had to endure them thousands of times."

Dean shrugged. "Who knows, maybe Cas got a hold of something that was never actually recorded. How cool is that?"

Dean moved his head to the beat, and Sam rolled his eyes. Dean started daydreaming, being led by the music that reminded him so much of his high school days. That was when he realized he liked guys a heck of a lot more than girls.

Ted Hensley came to mind. When all of Dean's friends were scoping out who to score for study partners (because Friday and Saturday night dates just weren't enough when it came to opportunities to hang out with pretty girls) Dean was also randomly asking girls to meet up and study. He didn't really have a favorite, and would ask a girl based on both her physical features and her personality. However, he was subconsciously aware that he really wished he could study with Ted Hensley instead.

Ted Hensely was handsome, had a dimple, had perfect white teeth, had really nice pecs…Dean kept reminding himself about these features when he was looking through the cafeteria at the girls, trying to decide who to ask for a study date. And even though Ted Hensley looked like he could be a football player, he wasn't. He was an ordinary guy, except he was probably smarter than the bulk of the student population when it came to biology – so Dean wormed his way into an excuse to ask Ted if he'd study with him for one night.

Dean was so much more nervous about this than he'd ever been asking girls. He knew his friends got nervous asking a pretty girl, but he never did – he just picked one and asked. If she said no, usually because she was too busy, he shrugged and moved on to another selection. With the same amount of emotional investment as picking out ala carte in the lunch line.

But Ted. He really wanted Ted to say yes. He approached him one day after school – Ted was known to sit out in the front yard of the high school campus when class was out. The fact that he was always surrounded by his buddies made the whole situation more nerve-wracking for Dean, but he was determined to at least try. What really made him nervous though, was he didn't speak to Ted often, so it would look _strange _for Dean to be asking him to study out of the blue.

Dean cleared his throat when he was finally ready to ask. He'd prepared by having his biology text on top of the pile, and purposely _not_ studied biology all week so he could look like a dufus if he scored.

"Hey, Ted, my name's Dean. I heard you were really good in biology, and was wondering if you'd study with me sometime really soon. I could really use the help."

A few seconds passed, excruciatingly long seconds, and then Ted smiled and said "Sure, Dean." They exchanged phone numbers and picked a time for the next day. Dean felt like whistling as he walked away.

Nothing became of Dean's attraction to Ted other than it helped him become aware he had a full-blown crush on a guy. The music Dean was listening to right now reminded him of this in full force, it sounded like a song he would have listened to while daydreaming about Ted. In fact, it almost felt like it _was_ a song that he listened to while daydreaming about Ted.

But, those memories were pretty faint and Dean really wanted to daydream about Castiel instead. The image of Castiel's face was still loud and clear in Dean's mind, and the longing he felt was sharp. He'd give anything to have Castiel near him right now.

He had to settle for daydreaming about him while listening to the tape. A new song started, a softer, ballad type, still rock, but with a romantic feel. He didn't recognize it, but knew which band was singing as soon as the vocals started. "Strange." He said to his brother. "I hadn't heard this one either."

Castiel's perfect eyebrows, the look of innocence and candor in his eyes, not to mention his look of hope and gratitude when he and Dean exchanged a glance, filled Dean's mind and made a mini-music video in his head to the music. He found himself wondering when he would see Castiel again, and remembered it would probably be short, and the disappointment burned in his stomach like a bad meal. Still, Castiel was the most entertaining thing he could think of so he continued to wonder about him as he drove down the road.

/

Dean is longing for me.

I can feel it, he's thought of me directly, so directly it is like a prayer and I can hear it, feel it and see it. I am amused that I am being compared to some young man with which he had a fascination with in his school days.

I only enjoy his thoughts briefly; it feels like an invasion of privacy because he cannot read my thoughts about him. However, since I now have a feel for them, I can compare them to my own thoughts about Dean.

Dean is not only fascinated with my face, but projects images of wanting to feel my skin. Underneath my clothes. This bothers me. The most he could see and feel underneath my clothes would be my chest and arms. My visage does not have the equipment he is daydreaming of touching and – seducing. Several of his thoughts of me are seductive and I wonder intensely how it would feel if he touched me in that way. But I will never know.

I'm more upset about how I can't – don't want to use the word _oblige_ anymore – satisfy Dean in the way he would like. My fear of his disappointment when he learns the truth and my regret is coloring my thoughts. But I do not want to think of our limits. It as if I have pondered Gabriel's words of wisdom and find myself wondering if I can find a way for a new path to be made, in the history of human and angel relations.

I'm frustrated too with our inability to meet often or properly. The most I can give him is a half hour every few weeks, or a few times a week, if I only see him very briefly. Then I have a thought. I could write him a letter and leave it for him. This could help with the gap between time, and unlike a human, for me to write a letter takes no energy or time at all. I can make it materialize instantaneously, every thought I wished to convey to him written and not missed.

So I create a short letter. I do not want to bore him. I want him to know I am thinking about him, and satisfy his curiosity about the tape. Anything I can do to satisfy him on any level, I feel such rushing eagerness.

_Dear Dean,_

_I want you to know that even though I cannot be with you, you are on my mind daily. Actually, you are on my mind by the minute, but 'minutely' is not a word, not in that context, anymore._

_I wish to give you something so you do not feel my absence so strongly. I think this will help me as well, because your absence to me is a gaping hole I find challenging to live with, but it does not stop me from wanting to think of you and see you, quite the opposite._

_I am glad you are enjoying the tape I gave you. I know you are curious why it has songs by some of your favorite singers, yet you have never heard them before. I asked the muse, Euterpe to put it together for me. They are all lost songs. They were meant to be, but for different reasons, did not come to fruition. In one instance, for the first song on the tape, called Stained Highways, the song was going to be created, was already in the artist's head, but then a major disappointment in his life steered him away from it. Often, this helps the creative process – loss and suffering, but in this case, it kept it from being born into the world._

_You and Sam are the only ones who will ever hear that music. I had to promise Euterpe that no one else would hear it – it is past the time for all those songs to be destined. If you play the tape to anyone else, they will hear a blank tape. This is my gift to you, Dean, music for no one else's ears, other than your brother._

_I miss you. I said that already, in another way – I hope you don't mind my repetition. You are probably wondering how I discovered you. I was working with one of my charges, that is, a human that I helped, and saw you come out of a grocery store with your brother._

_It was afternoon, and the sun was in your eyes as soon as you walked out of the automatic doors. You put up a hand to shield your eyes briefly. The sunlight made your hair glow golden and once your hand was back down in your pocket, I could see your face and I was struck with your beauty. I was literally flustered for a moment and needed to collect myself. Not just over your attractiveness – but the way your soul _felt._ It felt like I had come home to a place more divine than my heavenly home. I am capable of writing this note in a moment, all of my thoughts clear, but as of now, I am not able to convey to you how your soul felt next to my being, other than I felt I had come home._

_I am afraid that as an angel, I have an advantage over you, a human being, in this relationship. That is another reason I write this letter, to give you some scope of what it is to be me. I will write you another letter soon, explaining more about my angelhood, because I know you are curious about it, and still a little stupefied that I really am an angel. _

_Until then, Dean, I thank you for allowing me to be in your life. It is a gift of utmost importance to me._

_With fondness,_

_Castiel_


	8. Chapter 8

Dean put on his best suit and made sure every hair was in place before heading out the motel door. He gave the Impala a longing look and then got into the rental car he'd just picked up an hour ago. Dad insisted on transportation that was newer and classier when Dean was trying to win a client from the upper echelon. John had starting driving nicer, newer cars once he'd given Dean the Impala, and still couldn't stand the thought of Dean trying to woo anyone with the old beast. To him, it was like showing up to a job interview in jeans and a t-shirt. Not that the client ever even got into the car with Dean, but they could see him drive up and drive away, and impressions were everything, John would say.

Walking on a tightrope, Dean thought. The entire dinner would be a delicate transaction. When the potentials were women, anyway. When the clients were men, being nice and friendly was usually enough. The strange thing was that Dean didn't turn on any kind of special charm with the men. The men never would have guessed he was gay. He acted like an ordinary guy, and just talked about the virtues of the family's products.

But the women, Dean would smile a lot, get to know them a little, make lots of eye contact, basically, take advantage of the fact that he was an attractive member of the opposite sex. He didn't like to go too far either, because when he did, the more outspoken and forthright ones were asking him for a rendezvous at a nearby mattress, or worse, hoping for a genuine date. However, Dean turned up his charm as much as he could, thinking of how it was going to feed him, Sam, and his parents the next day if he was successful.

Maxine Kline was a pretty, well groomed woman. Her black dress fit her like a glove and her deep red lips on porcelain skin reminded him of vampire movies. She smiled warmly and his thoughts about vampires vanished. There was nothing cold about her, her personality was warm and Dean was able to connect with her easily. They even had some things in common.

Dean found himself wishing it was Castiel sitting at the table with him, having dinner and getting to know each other. He longed for that so much he let his emotions bleed into what he was doing, and was probably overly affectionate with her, a little too charming, but he didn't feel any regret, other than the aching regret that Castiel wasn't there with him.

Maxine told Dean she'd contact him in the morning and she sounded pretty ready to sign a year-long contract. Dean felt like he'd done his job well, wondering if missing Cas was a good thing as far as business was concerned, and was grinning on the way back to the motel.

Dean changed into something more comfortable and told Sam he was going to make a beer run. He got into the Impala and noticed an envelope on the passenger seat.

It had his name on it in perfect cursive handwriting and was sealed with wax. Beyond curious, Dean opened it quickly and saw a note in the same perfect cursive addressed to him.

When he was finished reading it, Dean was no longer in the mood for beer and sat in his car for several minutes, looking out the side window and watching the sun disappear on the horizon. He was flushed with warmth and read the letter a few more times, along with gazing at the sunset. He finally went back to the room, after ejecting the tape from the deck.

"I thought you were getting beer!" Sam said.

"Not now. Sam, we need to have someone else listen to this tape with us. Cas gave me a letter and it says we're the only people that can hear it. I want to try it out."

"What do you mean, we're the only ones that can hear it?"

Dean had an old boombox he brought along just in case he wanted to listen to his music in the motel. He put the tape in and rewound it, and pushed play. The first song started up.

"You can hear it, right?"

"Of course!"

Dean stopped the tape and picked up the boombox. He left their room, and knocked on the door right next to theirs and waited.

A man in boxers and a t-shirt answered. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, can you do me a really weird favor? It will take just a second."

The man shrugged. "Sure, I guess, as long as it's not too weird."

"I'm going to play this tape. Tell me if you hear anything, and if you do, describe it."

"O-kay." Dean started the tape. He could hear the song continue on.

"Well?" Dean asked.

Several seconds passed."I'm not hearing anything. Are you sure it's on?"

"Oh, it's on. Thanks. You were a great help." Dean stopped the tape.

"What was that all about?" The man asked.

"You probably don't want to know. Good night."

"Huh?" The man was saying as Dean went back inside.

"Did you see that Sam? I mean hear that?"

"Yeah, wow. Just wow. How could he not hear that? You've got the volume really loud for one thing."

"I'm really starting to believe Castiel is an angel," Dean said softly. "Wow. Just wow. I have another idea I want to try tomorrow morning. It'll be Sunday. Let's take it to a church."

Dean had tucked the letter safe inside his jacket's inside pocket, but he wished he could read it again. However, Sam was sitting there staring at him, so Dean just lay on his bed, and looked at the ceiling, thinking about Castiel.

"Dean!" Sam said.

"What?"

"The _beer_?" Sam asked.

Dean leaned over, grabbed his car keys. "You go get it." He threw them at Sam.

Sam caught the keys, and rolled his eyes. "Fine."

As soon as the Impala door shut and the engine started, Dean leaned over and grabbed the letter out of his jacket, and read it several times before putting it back.

/

The next morning, Dean and Sam drove to a nearby church. Dean had the boombox loaded with brand new batteries and the tape. They parked in an almost-full parking lot and waited a couple minutes for people to filter out.

They sat on the hood of the car with the boombox, and as soon as they saw people emerge from the front door of the church, Dean pressed play and cranked the volume to the highest setting.

Dean could tell Sam wanted to cover his ears from the expression on his face. It was painfully loud. They watched the faces of the people coming out of the door, and nobody flinched, no one glared at them. A few people coming to their cars nodded at them in a friendly way, but gave no indication they were listening to loud, disrupting rock music. Many more people came out to the parking lot, and there wasn't a grimace of disgust anywhere. One guy even pointed to the boombox, and asked Sam a question.

'What?" Sam asked loudly, so he could hear himself speak over the music.

Dean reached over and turned it down.

"I said, what kind of music are you planning on playing? Going to serenade some girl that comes out of the church?"

"Uh, we were considering it," Sam said. "But now I'm not so sure she's here."

"Good luck," the man said, and winked.

Dean stopped the boombox. After the man was out of earshot, he said, "Let's get in the car. It's obvious no one hears it."

Dean drove back to the motel. "This is real. I can hardly believe it, but that – _that_, would be very hard to fake. Yeah, the guy next door to us could have been an actor, but how could they anticipate I'd ask a stranger to listen to the tape? And there is no way they could have anticipated me going to a church to play the music in a parking lot, if this is a set up."

"Who is _they_?" Sam asked.

"I meant if this was faked by some TV show or something. You know, Cas being an angel, and jokes on us. But I can't think of a way anyone on Earth could have pulled that off."

"I'm already convinced Castiel is an angel, aren't you?" Sam asked.

"I..I…that's the thing. If I believe it completely, I feel like I've been had. That someone's pulled the wool over my eyes and successfully had a joke at my expense. All my sensibilities resist it, Sam. But then, once I'm thinking like that, you, know, full of doubt, I realize there is something very real about this. It's not just all the magic tricks he'd performed in front of us. It's the way I feel. It's like my mind wants to find all these reasons it can't be true, but none of that matters because of how I feel inside. It's real, Sam. Castiel is real, and there is something going on between us, something more genuine than I've felt with anybody human. God, this is weirder than fuck. But it's real."

"And what really scares me? That I'll just be feeling like this forever, without it going anywhere. I want something to happen between us, not just feel these giddy feelings all by myself! But then I got that note yesterday, and I'm feeling better about it, for now anyway."

Once Dean unlocked the motel room door, his cell phone rang. He checked it – Maxine Kline. "Hello, Maxine?" Dean said, expecting to talk briefly about an agreed contract. He was mentally envisioning a bunch of 'greats' and 'thank you's' and then him getting to kick back and watch TV before getting back on the road again. He felt he'd earned a day to relax, and he usually did relax on Sundays.

Maxine was almost ready to close on the deal, but wanting to meet up and ask a few more questions first.

Dean cringed just slightly, aware that his Sunday morning lounging was going to have to be put off. But, it was part of the job. "Sure," he said. "How about as soon as possible, before I get working on my schedule for the rest of the day?" Sam rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Okay, give me a few to change out of these clothes, I just got back from church. What? No my church clothes are more laid-back. I need to dress in my work clothes if we're getting together. Huh? No, thanks for the offer, but my dad would kill me if I showed up to a client in jeans."

Dean hung up. "Well, guess I'm going out for a few. Crap! She's going to see the Impala." Dean had already gotten rid of the rental car.

"How about I drop you off at your meeting place right away, then pick you up later? Sam offered.

"Sure, that'd be great, but I gotta hurry and get into my business suit. Help me with the goddamn tie, please."

/

Sam dropped Dean off at the Starbucks and Maxine walked in about two minutes later, so the timing was good. She was more casually dressed than the night before, but still looked flashy compared to other Starbucks customers. Dean smiled at her and had gotten out the paper contract. Figured if they were finalizing things in person, might as well do it the old fashioned way.

Maxine sat down next to Dean, and smiled as well. "I've been thinking about you a lot, Dean Winchester," Maxine said, and Dean had to work to keep the smile on his face. "What?" he said, playing dumb.

Dean was wishing like mad now that Sam was the one that dealt with the female clients. Dean didn't want to deal with this now. Missing Cas was putting some strain on him, and all he wanted to do, really, was lay in Castiel's arms and look into his eyes. Not try and talk some woman who had an attraction to Dean into ordering their products for a year.

But that's what he was going to have to do, be an adult and deal with real life business.

"You're very charming, you know that?" Maxine said. But her tone wasn't one of a lost puppy hoping to find a home in Dean. It had a small touch of anger to it. Dean cocked his head. "What?" he said again. Boy, he thought, his smooth talker skills had gone out the window this morning.

"I work with the Chronicle, our local paper," Maxine said. "I'm not the CEO of any company. I'm working on a long term project having to do with how men treat women in the business world, and you were an experiment of mine. And unfortunately, you did everything I wished you wouldn't have."

"What?" Dean shouted, drawing the attention of some nearby coffee drinkers. "If you're not here to buy our products, I'm out of here. I can't believe you'd use me like that. For what, a newspaper article? I'm just doing my job. I'm a salesman, and I sell my family's products. There is nothing wrong with that."

"It's more than a newspaper article, Dean, and you were brought to my attention by a previous client of yours. She said you were a prime example of a good looking man using his charms to win the sale from female clients. And to add meat to what I learned from you last night, I've observed you with potential male clients as well. You're completely different with them, you treat them like human being, not someone to flirt with until you get what you want!"

"You've got this all wrong," Dean said, but he wasn't in the mood to tell Maxine he had no real attraction to women. She was already causing enough trouble. "Are you going to publish this? Mention our company? Look, I'll admit I turn on the charm with the women, but that's because….because…" 

"Because you make more money that way. Isn't it. You charm the pants off the women, and they end up shelling out more money for your stuff."

"Are you going to publish this?" Dean asked again, more sharply.

"Yes, there will be a magazine article about the study eventually. I plan to use details from last night as prime examples of how men treat women differently in the business world."

Dean got up. "You'll be hearing from our lawyers, then."

He walked out into the parking lot, and swore to himself. The car wasn't here. Sam was supposed to pick him up. He started walking in the direction of his motel and dialed Sam.

"Hurry up and get here. I'm walking on the sidewalk. The whole fucking thing fell through," he explained, and said he'd say more once he was in the car.

Dean swore some more as he was walking. He was worried not only about the loss of money from what could have been a high-end sale, if she'd been legit, but the damage she could do if she published her article. Dean was going to have to call Dad and tell him the bad news, and he wasn't looking forward to that either.

Sam showed up when Dean was three blocks from Starbucks.

Sam listened intently and then swore. He looked at Dean briefly and when his eyes were back on the road again, he said, "Oh no. No I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I'm done. I'm just done being the one that wins the female clients. I don't even like women. You do it."

"We make more sales when you are the one that wines and dines the women, you know that. Dad insists on it…"

"Dad's not going to be happy about this, I tell you that," Dean interrupted. "Jesus, I bet he'll be griping about how we can't use the dinner as a tax write-off now. On top of how bad it will make our business look when she publishes her magazine article."

Sam pulled up to the motel. Dean's mood was so completely soured that his afternoon of TV didn't sound so entertaining after all. He was in the mood to kick things, not lie in bed lounging.

Dean was getting out of the car when Castiel appeared behind him.

Dean heard him before he saw him, there was that very soft whoosh of air announcing Castiel's arrival, and Dean swung around with both gratitude and an aching regret at the same time.

_A sight for sore eyes_. Never had a common expression been so true. Dean allowed him a moment of soaking Castiel in, a balm, an answer to a question, a feeling of utter relief. But then Dean reminded himself of what he really wanted, and knew it would kill him if he couldn't have it.

Castiel was smiling, which made it even harder for Dean to say what he needed to say.

"Cas, if you can't stay long, go away. I've had a shitty day and the last thing I need is a small taste of you. I can't handle seeing you for five minutes and then you being gone. I don't want five minutes, I want all fucking day. I want all night. Seeing someone you really want to be with for only five minutes at a time isn't healthy. Not right now, not ever."

Castiel's smile dissolved and he looked down for a moment. It was very obvious that he was hoping Dean would be happy to see him.

"Look Cas," Dean said, "I _am _glad to see you. That's the problem. I need to see you for much longer than you can give me. So unless you've planned to stay at least a half hour, go home, or wherever, and come back when you _can_ see me."

Castiel thought about it for a few seconds, and then said, "Okay Dean. Goodbye for now." And he was gone.

Dean shook his head at the still-shocking sight of Castiel disappearing right before his eyes, and then realized that the two minutes Castiel had been there really _was _a balm on his soul. And thought maybe he'd been too hasty. But now it was too late.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean continued to inwardly kick himself for a few hours for shooing Castiel away so quickly. He wished instead he'd gotten to talk to him for a few minutes; maybe it would have calmed him down. Then maybe, Dean wouldn't have said what he said to his father, which got everyone riled up. Dean called his dad and told him the bad news about the lost client and damaging article, John Winchester was saying he'd sue for slander if only he could afford a lawyer, which he couldn't with all his medical bills piling up. Then Dean starting saying that Maxine had a point and that he didn't want to wine and dine the women clients any longer. And that Sam could take on the women clients from now on. Which brought on a three way argument, because John didn't want this woman's small and insignificant article, as he put it, to keep Dean from doing a great job at winning clients, and Sam didn't want to take the reins with it anyway, and Dean felt there was too much truth in what Maxine said and he was no longer comfortable treating the women different than the men.

Everyone finally agreed to mulling it over and Sam reluctantly agreed to meet with the one woman on the schedule for the following week. Dean wasn't certain if his new refusal to meet with the women really had to do with Maxine or if he was just extra stressed from the strain of wishing he could see Castiel. Which brought him back to what he told Castiel, not to come back till he had more time, and after a few beers and TV shows to numb his mind from the rest of the day, he realized that he was right to tell Castiel to come back later.

Dean decided the stress of longing for someone he couldn't have was just too much trouble. He wasn't exactly ready to tell Castiel to go away forever; he did consider that option briefly during one of the commercials but the tug he felt on his heart made him realize he wasn't ready to go there yet. Instead he decided he was going to just consider himself single as far as not pining away emotionally, sexually, and otherwise, for Castiel so much, and if Cas happened to show up, great, he'd take the opportunity to get to know him better, and if not, well then he'd just be in the same old place he always was being single.

By the time it was evening, Dean felt good about his two new decisions and felt a little more at peace. He felt a little angry at Maxine for attacking his family's business with the article, but reminded himself not to sweat it too much. He invited Sam to a game of cards in the motel room after they went over their plans for the next day. He even gave Sam a little confidence boost and pep talk for the upcoming female client, so by the end of the day it felt like everything that had gotten stirred up was settled down nicely. As Dean's head was hitting the pillow he did think of Castiel's note briefly and how much it had touched him, but didn't allow himself to dwell on it for long.

/

I took care of my charge today after seeing Dean briefly and then returned to Heaven. All day, I have been wondering if there is any way for Dean and myself to have a real relationship. I am afraid I am already meeting the end of what could be between us. Dean has already told me if he isn't satisfied with the amount of time I can provide him, he will end our relationship.

If I could have sighed, I believe I would have been sighing all day throughout my work.

I thought of meeting with Gabriel and decided that I was not ready to hear more discouragement, so in lieu of that idea I took it upon myself to study some texts that men and women have written throughout history about romantic love. I am able to read rather fast, almost instantaneously, if any human were to compare my speed to theirs. I learned that all satisfactory love relationships – and the unsatisfactory ones too, of course – do not have "smooth sailing" as Gabriel would put it. Instead the relationships are rife with discord and seem to take on extra meaning and layers because of the discord and challenges. As in their love deepened over trials experienced together. Which gave me some renewed hope and made me give a mental sigh again as well. I felt I could research this farther in the hopes of finding an answer to our dilemma, but reminded myself of the practicality of how we needed to have time together to even forge a true relationship! No characters in my studies for today actually had the same problem as Dean and myself, they all had problems that they experienced together, so I resolved that I would study some examples that were closer to our predicament.

Dean wasn't calling out to me in his heart like he usually was, and I missed it, but I would rather Dean be at peace than unsettled so I felt grateful he was able to put his mind on other things. I do not wish to upset him in any manner, but selfishly I admit I did secretly love his need for me.

Dean is not the only one frustrated, it wears me out as well that I long for his presence and yet have only the briefest moments with him. After an afternoon with my charge I read a few fictional examples of couples enduring a separation and the tales are saturated with longing and dissatisfaction. I do not like this nor do I want to subject myself or Dean to this any longer.

I decide to look into the main issue – why angels may not manifest for long in front of humans. Surprisingly I do not actually know the answer, it is the way it has always been and I never had a reason to question it before. I go see my brother Gabriel to see if he has any insight. I brace myself for any discouragement he may throw at me and remind myself that matters that truly matter to the heart may not always come so easily.

"Are you still stuck on Dean Winchester?" Gabriel asks when I pose my question. He sounds surprised, but I remind myself I have been rather quiet about Dean in the most recent days and weeks due to wanting to avoid any sort of discouragement.

"Yes, I am still very fond of him, and we desire to see each other more. I need to understand why it is that angels are limited in their manifestation of their visages. Also, Dean said he wants me to stay away unless I can visit for a long time. He's stopped dwelling on me as much as he used to, has even sent the smallest prayer asking for another note from me, but…I am so afraid of putting his heart into more turmoil, that I have not written another letter."

Gabriel laughed loudly, and I frown. "First, Castiel, you are probably right to give Dean some space. And second, Castiel, I'd expect myself to question Our Father's ways so bluntly, but you? You must really love this guy. I don't know what to tell you. It's the way it's always been. We don't dare to question our Father's will, do we?"

I feel exasperated, but continue. "But haven't you ever tried to manifest longer than you should? What happened?"

"Well, I pushed it to the limit one night, and found myself in Heaven later needing to recharge for a really long time. I lost my capability to manifest for, oh I'd say approximately three months of Earth time. I decided after that it wasn't worth all the trouble."

"So what's the point of being able to manifest at all?" I muse aloud, with a large dose of anger in my words and heart. "If we are not supposed to be mingling with humans, why do we have a visage? Why can I show myself briefly? I am an angel of grief, and I almost never need to show myself to my charges."

"Well, you know some of us do undercover work. Make brief appearances as humans to encourage certain behaviors or events. However, as you are saying, for some of us we never really need that ability, to manifest, to do our work. Perhaps we are all just made the same since we are all Angels of the Lord."

"God is capable of many marvels including the entire manifestation of this universe, and I am not _buying_, as you would put it, that he has a limitation in this area. I want to get to the bottom of this."

"Castiel!" Gabriel said with another laugh. "I doubt he has limits either, but his will is always a deciding factor on why things happen. It would not serve you to go against his will, Castiel. Surely you have not allowed this little obsession with Dean Winchester to cloud your common sense in this matter, have you?"

I did not answer Gabriel, but instead left with my wings thundering with my frustrations. I had to truly ponder what he had said. Was I allowing my feelings for Dean to cloud my judgment?

I went to one of my private places in Heaven and thought deeply on this. We are not to disobey the will of God. However, I am so filled with questions and not certain what God's actual will is. And there is that heartening fact that Zachariah said God does not disallow me to manifest to Dean. Why is this? I am wondering if I should seek presence with God myself and ask my questions and get my answers.

I realize this is very risky. I could be told I am forbidden to converse and relate with Dean, and then it would be the very end. I could not disobey the will of God.

On the other hand, if I keep myself quiet, I would just be facing the same limitations that are causing us both such strain. After much searching inside my heart, I decide I must take a step. I will seek audience with God.

I think of how long it has been since I saw Dean in the back of car, and quickly calculate how long I could safely see him right now, since time has passed. Ten of his minutes. I do not hesitate and rush to him. I realize he probably will not be satisfied with those ten minutes, but this could be the very last time I ever get to manifest to him, and I am going to drink from that opportunity like it was my very last drop of nourishment, ever.

/

Everything seemed different to Dean since that Sunday. He was more cool and collected about not seeing Cas, and Sam met with their newest female potential client, approaching it like a very reluctant cat being thrown into bathwater, but he did just as well as he did with meeting the male clientele and he sold another large contract for their family's products. Dean was patting him on the back about him all day and instilling him with confidence for the next meeting. Now instead of anger towards Maxine, Dean was feeling like the woman had done him a favor, as the act he'd always put up with women was always a drain on him.

Dean wondered a few times if Castiel was going to send him another note, and even encouraged it, but nothing came and Dean wondered if he really turned the angel off with his abruptness. He'd remind himself of the impossibility of the whole situation and was beginning to chalk it up to a really bizarre encounter in his life that was nearing its end. He felt sad but successfully steered his thoughts elsewhere.

Then one day he was alone in the motel room and Sam was making a beer run, and Castiel appears out of nowhere. Dean quickly gauged his heart's reaction and saw he was much more pleased than irritated, even if Castiel could only give him a few minutes. Dean smiled at Castiel, both from sheer happiness and also in encouragement, which he wanted to provide to Castiel after his last reaction to the angel's appearance.

Castiel immediately opened his arms and enveloped Dean in what was probably the tightest hug he'd ever had. "Dean," he moaned softly in that incredibly gruff and sexy voice. Dean was still in a state of mixed disbelief and joy, and he wrapped his own arms tightly around Castiel. He squeezed him as much as he could and then rocked a little, enjoying immensely the feeling of this beautiful man or rather, _angel_, up against him. Finally though, he needed to see that face, even though he was afraid he'd go right back to his obsession with it. He pulled back so he could see Castiel, and Castiel was staring so intently at Dean's lips that Dean leaned a little closer to see if a kiss was what Castiel was thinking of. Castiel leapt to the invitation, and Dean hungrily kissed Castiel back, and was surprised that Castiel was not doing the soft, experimental probing he'd done before but was kissing just as hungrily as Dean and with a level of expertise he wouldn't have expected from an inexperienced angel. It was a fantastic kiss and they kept at it for several minutes until Dean finally broke away for air, and asked, "How'd you learn to kiss like that?"

"I observed some romantic fabrications," Castiel stated. He tilted his head towards the foot of the bed. "Will you sit with me a moment?"

Dean put his arm around Castiel and they sat at the foot of the bed, nuzzling and kissing each other for about another minute. Dean broke away and asked, "Do you have to go soon?"

Castiel's eyes showed the heaviness he felt inside. "Yes, Dean, I am sorry," he said softly.

Dean gave him a quick kiss. "Don't be. I'm glad you came. It really brightened my day. Please come back, okay?"

"Yes, Dean." And Castiel disappeared right in front of his eyes, which had Dean wondering if it was all a dream.

\\

I spent a few extra minutes with Dean than I intended but will make up for it somehow. Which has me thinking of the balance of things, and how whenever I take, I must give a little more somewhere else. I thought perhaps my conversation with Gabriel would have delved into that topic but it did not. Even though in some ways, Gabriel could be seen as the most unruly of all my brothers, he gave me a lecture on our father's will instead. It did not help me in my research. I decided to ask Zachariah to give me his own insights.

"Zachariah, I have a question."

"Yes?" We're speaking in Enochian and sitting in a fabrication in heaven that he likes quite a bit, where he has a desk and an office with nice furniture. It's rather plain compared to man-made office spaces, but it pleases him. I like the simplicity of the white against black, myself. It's like a black and white photograph come to life.

"It takes energy to manifest to humans," I state. "If we use that ability, we must recharge. Why does that specific activity take so much energy out of us?

"Castiel, think of the actual human body. It takes an incredible amount of energy to keep it running. Protein, carbohydrates, sugars, other nutrients, it cannot run without energy."

"Are you saying if I ate while manifesting I could stay in my visage longer?"

Zachariah laughed. "No, Castiel. I mean it takes energy to do anything. Because our visages are not real human bodies, they cannot stay visible and tactile to humans for long. They do not have a large energy source, like the human body does. Human bodies recharge with food and air. Our visages recharge with heavenly energy. Part of the problem has to do with we don't have a – you could say, container, to hold energy. It's like we're a solar panel with a very small holding cell for the energy to collect in. Then when it is used, it runs out quickly."

"I understand," I tell Zachariah. "This conversation is giving me the insight I needed. I need a larger – battery. Thank you."

"Wait, Castiel, why are you asking these questions? It's not like we can actually change anything."

"I won't know unless I try," I explain to him as I take my leave.

I have new ideas to ponder. I haven't even paused yet to reflect on how good it felt to have Dean Winchester in my arms and kiss him. I've been flooded with feelings from it since then, most definitely, but this is the first time I quietly allow myself to revel in those feelings.

To hold him that close – I can see now why all my charges grieve so much. They can no longer feel that intimacy again and have to face that fact every minute. I'm aware of it while I help them but had no reference to compare on what they ached for until now. To hold him close to me felt so incredible, and even though I still feel warm and satisfied from the feeling, I already ache for more.

I decide I must ask for presence with God. I've considered what Zachariah said and feel there is opportunity in what we discussed, but I don't want to take more time to research, not now when we've already been waiting more than our hearts can bear.

I ask and permission is granted. I will be meeting with God after my next duty shift with my charge. I flick a finger mentally since I am not in my visage and Dean finds a pile of letters to read on his bed.

.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the fact that I am anxious to meet with Our Lord and Father, I am able to attend to my duty just as well as I usually do. My charge and I both reminisce on the good memories of our beloveds together. Not that he is aware of this.

I head to my heavenly home with much anticipation, and even some determination. Where am I getting this boldness? I plan to tell God I must see Dean more. I feel defiant, and I believe this is a dangerous feeling as an angel. The Will of God is the pillar of an angel's existence. We exist to do his Will, nothing more. We were not created for the same reason as humans, who were given Free Will.

It has been a very long time since I've gained audience with God. The last time was when there was a plague on Earth and I was looking for guidance in the immense amount of grief the plague had caused. It suddenly occurs to me a human would find it odd that angels do not see God every day. It's not like I am never in his presence when in Heaven, he is there like the shining sun being present for Earth every day. But to truly be with him, is not a common occurrence, and it saddens me a little that my last memory with my Heavenly Father is so faint.

Finally, it is time. There is a hush in Heaven and in being, because God does not dwell in turmoil. He seeks me out, since He is everywhere, I do not need to go to Him. His Presence envelopes me, a rushing peace and satisfaction and love, and I wonder why it cannot be this perfect in all my moments of existence. He has no visage; his presence is a great light, none brighter than it.

"What is it you seek of me?" I hear inside of me. Perhaps 'hear' is not the correct description. His communication is more like a swelling in the likeness of my heart rather than a sound. Words are not truly spoken, but I instantly know Father's meaning.

I feel like a vulnerable child in front of their parent. My needs cry out inside of me as He asks me what I am looking for. I will tell him what every part of me calls out for, and it will be up to Him if my desires should be chased, or instead be an aching reminder of what I lost. I remind myself again I am an angel. His Will is ultimate, although nothing is going to stop me from begging for what I deeply need until that pillar of his Will completely stands in his way.

"Dean," I say. "Dean Winchester." His name is like laughter on my lips, it bubbles out of me with such pleasure, I cannot wait to even just say his name again. Dean's name is an audible song in our otherwise soundless communication.

"You are fond of this human," God states.

"Very much so." Hope and fear are both singing inside me at the moment. Hope that Father will hear my plea, _feel_ my plea, and fear that this is all to a useless end, a bleak end.

"I am fond of all humans. Dean does not take more precedence in my heart than the human you watched over last night. What is it you want from him?"

"I want to spend time with him. I want to forge a relationship with him. I want to soothe his heart with my presence and soothe mine with his. He longs for me just as I long for him."

I pause, and feel God listening to me. It is an extraordinary feeling, like he is drinking from me, like I am worthy of quenching his thirst.

'It surprises me, that you, Castiel, of all angels would have this request."

"Why is that, Father?"

"You know the nature of grief. You know if its misery. Do you want to experience it firsthand?"

"What are you saying, Father?"

"If you forge this relationship with Dean, you will grieve. I guarantee it. The relationship will end in grief. I have my reasons for keeping angels from the intricacies of human life, and this is one of them. You know how to soothe grief, I do not desire for you to feel it intimately, though."

"I do not understand. If Dean were to die…I could be with him easily in Heaven." Sudden understanding hits me, my likeness of heart sinking into despair at a thought. "You mean he will break up with me."

"It is inevitable that your relationship with Dean will end. I have made you to be an angel and I will not change your making. You will always have limits in conversing with humans."

"So, it is decided," I say, forlorn. Already I am grieving! What difference does it make if I grieve him later instead of now, I wonder?

Hearing my heart, Father responds. "Again, I am surprised with you, Castiel. You have cared for those who have lost someone with deep bonds. You know your grief will be much, much worse if you get more attached to Dean. You can stop now, and it will hurt for awhile, but the pain would be lesser than if you continue with this."

"Are you saying no one should bond, to avoid grief?" Anger laces my words. I actually speak them aloud.

"No, Castiel, I am not," Father replies sternly. "I am merely looking to protect you. You are an angel. You are not meant to feel such things."

I want to say something in defense of all the human charges I have watched over since the beginning of their existence. Humans have a deep shadow harboring all their hearts, this grief they can all feel. I wish they could have the same concern and protection from Father! Yet another thought is tugging at me. "Are you giving me a choice? It sounds like it. Are you saying I may take the opportunity to bond with Dean?"

"Yes, I am."

Every part of me is leaping with elation. "Then what of the limitations of our visages? It would be impossible to strengthen my bond with Dean without more time with him."

"Angels are not meant to interact with humans in that way. I made you exactly as you should be, meeting your purpose, providing assistance to humans, quietly and unseen. You do not need to use your visage in your particular duty. As of now, you have been stretching the boundaries of what is set for you."

"Is that wrong? I feel things, Father. I'm not a…tool…like the tissues my charges cry into."

"I have not said it is wrong. But it was unnecessary. Now that you've revealed yourself to Dean Winchester and have spoken to him on several occasions, you are quite attached to him. This will only end in grief. And as for angels being a tool, they are not. You are a gift. A gift to humans."

His last statement sings in me. If I am indeed a gift, I want nothing more than to be Dean's. "I want to be Dean's gift. Please tell me, if I can spend time with him. I must know my fate. If I can spend time with him, I will be eternally grateful. But what of the limitation on my visage?"

I stand waiting, afraid that the whole reason I met Dean was to learn some lesson that angels need to keep in their place. He has already told me he made me as I should be. However, there is still the question, if I am able to bond with Dean, there must be a way.

"That is not why you met Dean," God responds to my heartfelt worry.

"Why did I meet Dean?"

"Why do you think you met Dean?"

"So my heart could flourish? So I connect ten thousand fold with the humans I care for? So I can know one intimately, and one can find I have a heart as well? So I can give more than I ever have before? So I can know _him_? I want to know _him, _Dean Winchester. I don't want to wonder who he is, I want to know him, I want to bond with him, I want to be a part of his life. I want to spend time with him…he is beautiful."

"Maybe you are correct. After all, I am the one that made you to Dean's liking."

"You made my visage…to Dean's liking?" This statement echoes inside me, pumps the likeness of my heart faster. I remember the cherished moment when Dean first told me he found my visage very pleasing. It was such a gift…and now I am deeply touched at what my Father has done for me. For Dean. But why?

"Why are you surprised by this, Castiel? Am I not the one who created all in Heaven and on Earth?"

"You make it sound like we were destined!"

Heavenly Father is almost laughing joyfully. I feel mutually elated from his announcement. "Just keep in mind that I created you long, long before him. That is my answer for now."

This reminder thrills me. Was I made for Dean? Was I really made for Dean? I will be pondering this! "What is my fate, Father? What are you saying?"

"Do you really want to deepen your bond with Dean, despite the consequences?"

I do not even have to think about it. I know with every piece of my being I must meet the end of what could be between myself and Dean. I cannot stop before the end. "Yes."

"I am touched by your heart on this matter. I will grant you more time, temporarily"

I am soaring at this news. "Did I hear you correctly, Father?"

"You did. I will increase your visage time to fourteen total hours a week. You could do two hours a day, or miss some days and do four hours twice, plus a two hour day. Or whatever you and Dean choose, as long as it doesn't go over fourteen hours and you always recharge properly in heaven."

I am gasping. "_Fourteen hours_? So many? You are very generous!"

"What were you expecting?"

"Maybe an hour or two a week? I'm flushed with excitement at this news."

"I know of how much you and Dean like each other. That would barely be anything to bond on. Take my gift and enjoy it while you can."

"Can you tell me how temporarily I will be able to manifest in this way? Or when he will end the relationship?"

"I do not tell humans of these things, therefore I keep it a mystery to you as well."

"Very well."

"Do be careful, Castiel. This is dangerous not only for you, but for Dean as well. Your essence will influence Dean."

Despite my elation, I am somewhat stricken by this thought. I have forgotten this element of manifesting to humans.

"If I could be so bold, if you are able to give me more time with him, and I am eternally grateful, can you do something about protecting him from my essence? I do not want him to grieve."

"That, Castiel, I leave for you to ponder, because I am already bestowing my gift of extra time for you, when angels are not made to manifest on Earth for their own purpose. Perhaps there is a solution. Perhaps it is my Will you find a solution. Or that Dean find a solution. I must take my leave now. Enjoy my gift. Remember that is what it is, later in your darkest hours."

His last comment chills me. However, I am in awe of his gift. He has granted me, an angel, some free will. I remind myself how this meeting could have ended, and I feel so incredibly fortunate! He parts and I still feel his love in his absence. His peace expands inside me then joy, joy at the thought of how much time I will get to spend with Dean.

Fourteen hours. This feels like eternity compared to five minutes in one week. I cannot fly Earth to fast enough, thinking of this, thinking of Dean, of all the possibilities, now that I have time with him.

I rush to Earth. My new duty shift does not start until Earth's new morning tomorrow. I can go straight to Dean.

I was already considering giving up all my time for tomorrow, so I could spend four full hours with Dean. If he wasn't busy.

I want to bring Dean a present, but do not want to spend too much time picking it out, so I will not waste time without him. I decide I will take him out to dinner, if he will have me.

I still want to bring something to his door. I remember the Pepsi he liked, and once I am materialized on Earth behind a hedge, I go to the window of an eating establishment right next to his motel.

"I need a Pepsi," I tell the worker.

"Where's your car?" He asks me. The look on his face implies I should know better. However, I do not.

"I don't have one," I explain.

His surprise with my car-lessness increases in his face. Dean was surprised too, that I had no car. I realize I should think up a good excuse. "I do not have the money, to buy a car." I tell him.

"Whatever. Well, hope you have the money to pay for the Pepsi, or you're out of luck." It will be a dollar twenty."

"I am lucky, on several counts today. I have money for a Pepsi. Do you mean a dollar or twenty dollars?"

The man laughs at me. "Are you for real? Dude, its one dollar and twenty cents. You need to be careful, the next guy might not be so honest and gyp you out of twenty bucks." He was shaking his head as if I were a sad case. If only he knew the truth! Quickly remind myself I must pay for the Pepsi so I can go see Dean.

I have never used money before. I materialize two dollars in my pocket and pull them out. "Is this enough?"

"Yeah." He laughs again, and it pains me he is laughing at my naivety. He takes the money, puts it in a drawer, and hands me some coins. "Here you go. I'll have your Pepsi ready in a minute."

He hands me my new Pepsi, and I nod gratefully. I am eager to give this to Dean, and share it with him.

/

Dean had woken up to a pile of envelopes on the pillow next to his. He looked around, saw Sam was still asleep, so he picked one up, felt the seal on the lip of the envelope. He ripped it open and gingerly took out the paper inside, realizing the paper was very smooth, almost silky. It occurred to him it probably had never been a tree.

_Dear Dean,_

_I hope it amuses you that no matter which envelope you open first, this will be the first letter you read. All the other letters will be in the right order also._

Dean chuckled. It did amuse him.

_This letter will describe to you what a typical day is like for me, an angel. It is my wish for you to know me intimately. I hope do not frighten you with those words._

_No, _Dean mused, _you're _turning me on_ with those words._ He felt a shudder of delight at the word 'intimately'.

_I do not need to sleep. I am conscious every Earth hour. I work both in the night hours and the day hours. I typically work 18 hours a day, which leaves me 6 hours of freedom and rest. As you are aware, it is not complete freedom. I can go invisibly wherever I want to, but to appear in Earthly form – my visage – takes much energy so I am limited in that regard._

_Damn, _Dean thought, _18 hours a day work, I bet Castiel could really use a beer._ Dean glanced at his pillow and tried to imagine his life without sleep. Didn't want to go there.

Dean hoped Castiel was going to get into some calculations about how long he could show up on Earth and then how long he would need to recharge, but he didn't.

_I spend all of my duty time with the grieving. In some cases I am their constant companion during the day, providing my peace and goodwill to them. Other times I stay at their bedside while they sleep._

That sounds boring, Dean thought. The part about staying at their bedside all night while they sleep. Wonder if he can read a book.

_Whenever my charges are awake, I must use a great deal of energy to send them a part of my calmness. Less so when they are sleeping. For this reason, I must recharge in heaven quite often, and do not spend much of my free time on Earth._

_The times I manifested to you, I had saved some of my strength after some night shifts. I could still see you in the evening though, I saved it throughout the day. For you._

_My days and evenings consist of giving of myself to others. I wish I could give all of myself to you._

Dean was blushing. He wished like crazy he could find out what it would be like for Castiel to give all himself to him.

Dean reminded him this was the craziest relationship he'd ever been in, and then read on eagerly. The letter was almost over.

_I miss you Dean. And I am pondering how to solve our predicament. With every thinking moment. More in the next letter._

_Fondly yours, Castiel_

Dean looked at the pile of letters and guessed there were ten of them? He picked them up and counted them, and he'd been correct. He decided he'd open one a day, so he'd have something to look forward to.

He thought about writing back to Castiel, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the letter. But Dean decided it was likely he would, since he was an angel. He went to the corner convenience store on a quick walk, and picked up a cup of coffee and a new notebook.

Back at the motel, Dean sat down and hurriedly wrote a letter, and then stashed his notebook where Sam would never look, the duffel Dean used for his underwear.

_Dear Castiel, _

_This relationship is by far the strangest relationship I've ever been in, but I like it. Naturally there are things I don't like about it, like I never get to see you, and that's hard, even though I barely know you. Because I want to see you. I want to do things with you. I want to see you laugh. I wonder what your laugh is like. Do angel's laugh?_

_Maybe these letters will help. I appreciate the gesture. A lot. And I _was _amused by the first letter I opened being the right one, no matter what._

_This is a hell of a thing to say to someone I barely know, but I do want to know you intimately. I'm curious about you like you wouldn't believe. You've got to be thousands of years old, right? Anyway, I think you still need to dish out some more, Cas. As in give me some intimate detail about yourself. I'm ready and waiting._

Dean snickered, and then wondered how to sign off the letter. 'Fondly yours' wasn't Dean's style. Hell, writing a letter like this wasn't Dean's style. He spent a good five minutes just trying to decide how to appropriately sign his name to the letter.

He finally decided on _Eagerly yours, Dean _because it was true. And added a P.S.

_P.S. Loved hearing what you told me so far._

Dean stuffed the rest of his letters from Cas into his duffel. He was tempted to re-read the one from today, but decided to put it off till later after lunch. God, he was a sap. He went through his day with a little more bounce in his step, looking forward to tomorrow morning when he could open the next letter like a Christmas present.

/

I realize after my audience with God that Dean has written me a letter on a notepad. I can read it without looking at it, and I think to myself, I will have to tell Dean something intimate about myself tonight, since it would please him.

I knock on his motel door even though I could arrive unannounced in his room. I am eager to see his surprise. It occurs to me that he could be working tonight, so I pray in steadfast that he is free.

The Pepsi is cold in my hand, the skies are clear, and there couldn't be a more beautiful, incredible night than tonight.

/

"Sam, you know the rules. Dr. Sexy is a new episode tonight, we're watching Dr. Sexy!"

"God forbid I get between you and Dr. Sexy! Never mind the fact I might want to watch something!"

"Not when Dr. Sexy is on!"

Sam shook his head and sat down with his laptop. Maybe he could catch the game on the internet.

There was a knock on the door and Dean swore under his breath. "Sam, you get it! If it's a client, can you deal with it? Like somewhere else?"

"Yeah, whatever," Sam shut his laptop, grunting. He went to the door and hoped it was nobody important.

He opened the door to see Castiel holding a Pepsi in his hand. Sam laughed. "Dean, it's for you!"

/

**AN: Hello dear readers! This chapter was hard to write, hope it turned out okay. Thanks for reading, I'm grateful people are continuing to read! I'm always thinking of the readers, and hoping the story moves you, entertains you, etc. I'm writing it for all of you! **


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